Floodgates
by Ayane458
Summary: A Freelancer recon team is sent to investigate reports of strange sightings and three missing Red soldiers. What they expected was simple. What they found was a threat. And it followed them home. Multiple characters and OCs
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The idea for this was given to me by Speed5ter69 of RT. I will be using various canon and original characters as well as multiple points of view, so the POV will be posted at the top of the chapter each time. Anyway, enjoy Halo's answer to the zombie apocalypse.**

**EDIT, PLEASE READ: Ok, new readers, just so everything's clear the story was started **_**before**_** season 10. So a lot of things are going against the current RvB canon. Sorry about that. I'm going to have to ask you to ignore that, please. I hope it doesn't bother you.**

_Agent Massachusetts 'Massa'_

_Artificial Intelligence: Pi (Curiosity)_

The rainforest was beautiful.

Massachusetts couldn't remember the last time she'd seen anything like it. Most of the simulation bases she'd been to were set in scrubland or ice, places she would never be comfortable in. Massa loved the greens and browns of the place, and the splashes of colour found on fungus and birds. She could happily spend her life out here –it wasn't as if she couldn't find her own food, and there was an abundance of clean water up a small mountain. Rainforests were Massa's favourite places.

However, one of her teammates disagreed profoundly with her opinion.

Michigan fell once again, cursing up a storm that scared off many small birds. No one offered to help him up, so he was left to stagger to his feet. His usual yellow armour was brown more than anything else, giving him the appearance of a badly bruised banana. On the bright side, it offered far better camouflage, like Massa's and CT's. Mich glared straight at Massa, as if his predicament was somehow her fault.

"You never take me nice places anymore, baby," he snapped sarcastically.

"Keep it quiet," Massa growled. Massa, Mich and CT had been sent for recon purposes. As per usual, they'd been given the sketchiest of all details about precisely _what_ they were supposed to be doing reconnaissance on.

_Maybe it will be something big,_ the voice inside her head suggested. _Like, important. What do you think?_

_No clue,_ she thought back, and she nearly laughed at her AI's instant displeasure. Pi, or 'the voice inside her head', had a perpetually curious, wondering nature and was never satisfied with vague answers. Massa thought he would be much more use to an interrogator like Indiana, but she wasn't complaining. She genuinely liked her AI.

"What are we looking for again?" Mich asked, ignoring Massa's warning look.

"A bug," CT replied.

"That's –"

"There were reports of large, spider-like creatures in the area. We were ordered to check it out, so we're checking it out. There have also been three reported disappearances from this area's Red base," Massa said, cutting off anything Mich had to say. "Quit complaining."

"This is stupid." The comment hadn't come from Mich; instead, it came from a small, armoured, light grey glow next to his head. Mich's AI, Eta, was a thoroughly dislikeable creature that seemed incapable of finding interest in anything. He was also the reason Mich's complaining had increased ten-fold, and part of the reason why CT didn't mind not getting an AI as much as South.

"The 'quit complaining' was a blanket statement, Eta," Massa said, keeping her voice low. Massa was team leader, which would've been a much easier role with anyone _but_ Mich. She got along well enough with CT, who seemed to have the ability to keep her mouth shut when she had nothing to say.

Everyone was silenced by the sound of gunfire.

Instinctively, Massa ducked low, heading for cover behind the tall, buttressed roots of a giant tree. The gunfire had either not been aimed at them, or the person firing was a lousy shot –the ground had been sprayed with bullets metres away. Gunfire came again, closer this time, and CT joined Massa behind the roots. Mich was behind a fallen log.

"Sounds like SMG fire," CT commented.

"Massa, I have noticed something interesting," the orange glow of her AI appeared, like an angel on her shoulder. "I am detecting three human-sized targets with UNSC neural implants. However, the implants have been disabled in the manner one would expect after death." More gunfire interrupted him. "It would appear the hostiles are already dead."

"Your AI malfunctioning?" CT asked, peeking around the tree.

"Shut up," Massa said immediately, bristling at any insult to her AI. Then, evenly, "What do you see?"

"Three guys, just like he said," CT confirmed. "But… they look off."

"Off how?" Massa said, cautiously looking over the roots to get a look for herself. Mich was peeping out behind his cover, too.

The hostiles were indeed 'off'. Their armour was cracked and had patches torn off, and the skin underneath looked greeny-brown, easily blending into their surroundings. The armour only had small patches of regulation red, the rest completely covered in an organic-looking gunk of the same greeny-brown. They carried SMGs, but they held them awkwardly and the walked with an eternal stumble.

But the most disturbingly 'off' thing about them was the giant antenna-tentacle thing sticking out of their shoulders.

"Hold your fire!" Massa tried ordering the soldiers. They fired again, forcing the Freelancers to duck back behind cover. "Worth a shot," Massa shrugged.

"Alarm," Pi said, suddenly flashing bright red. "Multiple small targets incoming. Initial estimations at twenty-two strong. Contact in thirty-two seconds."

Massa jumped up to take another look, letting a few rounds loose from her Magnum as she did. The rounds hit one soldier squarely in the chest, but barely slowed it down. The 'multiple small targets' were fast, beach ball-like things that were heading straight for them. Massa tried shooting at them but they were bloody fast –CT had more luck with her assault rifle, taking out three in a burst. The things popped like balloons.

Mich was going to work with his BR, but his aim was erratic at best.

The soldier-things continued to pull the trigger, though it appeared that their SMGs had simply run out of ammo. CT stopped firing to reload, and then one of the smaller things launched itself at her.

CT fell back, dropping her assault rifle as she struggled to keep the thing away from her face. Up close, Massa thought they looked like giant parasites, the beach-ball body atop what looked like dozens of legs and a few antennae. Massa aimed carefully and fired, the bullet exploding the thing right in CT's visor.

"Thanks," she said, and Massa was unsure whether CT was being sarcastic or not as she tried to get as much of the thing's muck of her visor and picked up her rifle.

The rest of the beach-ball things had arrived, and Pi coloured the most immediate threats red on her visor. The soldier buggers were still a long way back, their smaller counterparts far quicker. Massa took out one with the remaining two rounds in her Magnum, before backing off and reloading. The automatic weapons were far more effective against these creatures. Putting her Magnum back in its holster, Massa reached for her shotgun, hoping the shells would have a better effect.

"Only four of the little guys left," Pi told her, highlighting each with a blue marker.

CT took out the closest two with her rifle, and another one leaped at her. Massa shot it out of the air. Looking around, she saw the last blue marker retreating back behind the ex-soldiers. The soldiers were mere metres away, and their right arms looked more like one big claw. Mich opened fire at one, and each round hit their mark –the left most creature's chest. The thing staggered, but did not stop.

Unable to stop thinking about all the zombie movies she had seen in her life, Massa aimed at the middle creature's head and fired. The blast from the shotgun destroyed its head and the antenna-tentacle on its shoulder, and the creature collapsed. It did not move. The remaining two walked right past their fallen comrade, not even pausing. CT fired at one's head, and it slowed down considerably but did not completely stop.

Pausing for a moment, CT lowered her aim to the thing's shoulder, and fired. The thing dropped. Mich, getting the message, aimed straight for the last one's shoulder-antenna and destroyed it.

"Too easy," he smirked.

His teammates shared a long-suffering look and Massa tapped her radio.

"Pilot four-seven-niner, I think we found what we're looking for," Massa said. Slowly, she approached the downed soldiers' bodies and grabbed the video-logs from their helmets, securing them onto her armour.

"Got it, Massachusetts. On my way, over," Lucy replied.

The team headed for the extraction point, weapons ready. Mich no longer complained, and Massa no longer appreciated the beauty of the rainforest quite as much. They all looked for the small creature that got away, and constantly jumped at birds. They arrived at the extraction point with no incident.

The Pelican landed and the hold opened, letting the Freelancers on. Mich sighed and took off his helmet, revealing matted pale blond hair. CT followed suit, though didn't take her eyes off the forest. Massa left hers on.

"Alarm!" Pi and Eta announced, both flashing red.

Massa turned to see the blue marker flying at the Pelican.

"Close the door!" she ordered Lucy. The hold door slowly made its way up, but not nearly fast enough to stop the beach-ball.

It landed right next to CT, but the angle wouldn't let it jump straight onto her like its companion had. Instead, the beach-ball launched itself at Mich and latched onto his face. Mich cursed, his voice muffled by the demonic creature he couldn't get off. Massa jumped forward and kicked it off, and CT stamped on it. It was easily crushed beneath her boot.

"What the fuck was that?" Lucy yelled.

"It's a long story," Massa told her.

"I'm fine. Y'know, just in case anyone's worried…" Mich muttered, stroking a cut on his cheek. "I hate those fucking things. I don't give a shit what they are, I fucking hate them."

"Well, that's over," Eta said, sounding bored once again.

The Pelican took off, and headed for the _Mother of Invention._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter has much less action. Just thought I'd mention it.**

_Agent Massachusetts 'Massa'_

_Artificial Intelligence: Pi (Curiosity)_

"What the hell is that?" CT snapped, backing away from Mich.

"How should I know?" Massa replied, her voice wavering slightly.

The small scratch on Mich's cheek –the one caused by the beach-ball monster –had turned a horrible greenish-brown, and like mould it was spilling over the cut, onto his skin. Mich himself had taken on a sallow colour, and looked like he was about to be horribly sick. Eta had appeared next to him, and looked abnormally concerned for his Freelancer. Pi was morbidly curious, but supressed it for his host's sake.

"What's going on back there?" Lucy asked.

"We'll tell you when we know," CT yelled back.

_Massa, I think the best thing to do would be to let the doctors handle it, _Pi told her, and she could tell how hard it was for him not to ask her to investigate. _Any attempts to examine on our part could lead to possible infection. Let the Director decide what to do with him. _Pi mentally winced at that last part –he had heard some of Epsilon's 'moments' close-up and was still unsure how to feel about the head of the Project.

CT made to approach Mich, but Massa put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Not our area of expertise, CT." CT nodded, and backed off again.

Mich, for his part, was holding onto the safety bar for dear life. He drooped, like if he let go he would collapse to the ground. Even Eta appeared to be pale and sickly green, his state mirroring his host's.

"What's our ETA?" Massa yelled to Lucy.

"'Bout two minutes," Lucy replied.

Massa ordered a medical team to the landing bay the second they got out. Mich could barely stand, and he had to be led off by medics in sealed suits. Massa and CT deemed it safe to remove their helmets, and they watched as Mich was led away, in the direction of the medical wing. A few dark brown curls had escaped Massa's ponytail, which she tucked behind her ear.

"What happened to him?" Wash asked, walking up to the women, followed by Kenni.

"Hell if we know," CT replied simply.

"Agents!"

"Sir," the Freelancers said in perfect unison. Massa knew Pi was a little scared, but with her helmet off, there was little she could do to comfort him. Wash had it worse –his helmet was on, and she could see him buckling slightly at the onslaught of… whatever Epsilon was throwing at him. CT subtly put a hand on his for a second, and quickly removed it as soon as the Director looked her way.

"Massachusetts, what did your team find?" he asked.

"We found the missing soldiers, sir," Massa replied. "I believe so, anyway."

"And what does that mean?" the Director drawled.

"They were…" Massa trailed off, unable to explain. Pi took over, his orange form lighting up next to her, yellow and red flickering through it.

"We encountered unknown hostiles, sir," Pi said. His voice never quavered, because his curiosity about the 'unknown hostiles' distracted him. "They were not human, nor any life form we have encountered previously." Pi activated a second hologram, showing one of the Beach-Balls they had encountered. "Their destruction seems to leave a cloud of spores in the air –" the holographic Beach-Ball exploded in a hail of bullets, and spores spread from it "– but these spores only last for seconds. However, each time they attacked they launched themselves at the head. After Michigan had removed his helmet (within the Pelican) one snuck up and latched onto his face."

"We managed to get it off before it could get a good grip," Massa interrupted. "Unfortunately, it scratched Michigan's cheek before it let go, and that may have led to a possible infection."

"Possible?" CT scoffed. "There was mould on his face."

"Mould?" Kenni asked, looking completely disgusted.

The Director cleared his throat, and there was a small chorus of 'sorry, sir's all round.

"And the missing simulation troopers?" he asked.

"We detected no life signs from them," Massa reported. Pi changed his secondary hologram to an image of one of the former sim-soldiers. "Yet they were still moving. They shot at us, although their aim was erratic, even considering their, ah, station."

Beaver Creek was not well known for its superb soldiers.

"Zombies?" Wash asked, while Kenni outright giggled.

"That's hilarious, M," Kenni snickered. "Seriously, I never thought you were such a joker."

"Actually, Kentucky," the Director interrupted. "The team's findings correlate with a previous encounter reported by a Spartan-II."

That stopped the snickering.

"Massachusetts, I will expect a full report," he glanced at CT, "from _both_ of you. Have your AI attach the relevant video files. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Massa said.

"Dismissed," the Director said, storming off.

"Zombies?" Wash asked. "Really?"

"What do you think will happen to Mich?" Kenni asked.

"Not to mention Eta," Epsilon added, appearing as a blue-armoured soldier on Wash's shoulder. "I'm picking up some signals from him. Guy's a mess."

"I agree with Epsilon's assessment," Pi said. "The signals Eta is sending out are becoming increasingly… disturbed –similar to what happens to Epsilon during a, uh, moment," the last part was said so only those in the conversation could hear. Wash and Epsilon's condition was a closely guarded secret among the Freelancers; hell, only about a dozen of them even knew. "I suggest that Epsilon and I –as well as the other AI –cut all ties to him." Once again, Pi's inherent curiosity made it hard for him to say that. "It would be safer for us, if he continues on the path he is on."

"Agreed," Epsilon said.

"C'mon, CT," Massa said. "You might wanna drop your helmet off at Processing. It looks a little…" she trailed off, gesturing at various pieces of gunk covering CT's helmet. "See you guys later," she said to Wash and Kenni, as they headed off to no doubt tell everyone about the 'zombies'.

_I'm proud of you, Pi,_ Massa sent. _You managed to ignore your curiosity and make the safer suggestions._

_Thanks, Massa,_ Pi sent back. Pi was the only AI that called her 'Massa', but that seemed to be the norm. Only Epsilon called Wash 'Wash', only Eta called Mich 'Mich', and only Sigma called Maine 'May' –although that last one was more in an effort to humiliate his host than any actual familiarity.

CT made a disgusted noise and threw her helmet into Armour Processing, before grabbing her bag and leaving, giving Massa a nod on the way out. Massa checked her own armour for any dents or gunk, but found none.

As she left the locker room behind, Massa asked Pi what he thought about the Beach-Balls.

"I can't find any information on them anywhere!" Pi whined, hologram turning a few shades darker with his irritation. "I can infer that they're some sort of… giant parasite, or something. I can't tell," Pi finished, looking miserable. His form was jolting as she walked, but he never moved from his position: knees drawn up to his chest and face in his hands.

"Calm down, Pi," Massa said. "The docs'll figure it out.

**A/N: Like I mentioned before (I think) I have taken some liberties when it comes to the Flood. I hope y'all don't mind too much, but other than that I've tried to keep this reasonably 'realistic'. As for the Spartan-II, I have no idea where this falls on the Halo timeline (because RvB hasn't given us a date) but it's probably before Halo: CE. But, technically, they have met Flood before then –go take a look at (SPOILERS) Halo Wars if you don't believe me. And there were Spartans there. And yes, the Flood can infect AI. That's canon.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Agent Idaho 'Ida'_

_Artificial Intelligence: N/A_

Ida pushed through the doors of the infirmary, gesturing at one of the medics to tell her what the hell was going on. She'd been woken up and ordered to run halfway across the damn ship because some idiot had managed to get himself fucked up. Needless to say, she was in a bad mood, and what the medic told her only made it worse.

Ida was one of five Freelancers whose medical skills either equalled or bettered their combat skills. Whenever the ordinary doctors needed help, Ida or one of the others was drafted. Seeing as Massachusetts had only just come back from a mission, and the other three were in training simulations, Ida was the only one available.

"We don't know what's wrong with him," the medic, Hullum, said. "Hell, what's wrong with _them_. Agents have gotten sick and injured before, but it's never affected their AI. And this guy's Eta is in bad shape, last I saw of 'em."

"What happened to them?" Ida demanded as she shrugged into a medic's uniform.

"Came back from a mission," Hullum said. "Apparently he got attacked by some little unknown bugga. It caused an infection, but…"

"But?" she prompted.

"Well… just take a look. And put the helmet on, we don't want it spreading," he ordered.

Ida shrugged and did as she was told, placing the airtight glorified surgeon's mask over her head, tucking in her short blonde hair. She followed Hullum out of the main infirmary and into the biohazard zone. As they neared their destination, more and more medics were huddled around, murmuring in small groups. One ran past Ida before throwing up.

"What the –"

"Seems to be the standard first-sight reaction," Hullum said seriously. Ida glanced at him, but he said no more.

She caught snatches of conversation from the other medics:

"… rapid mutation. It's like that little thing completely…"

"… neural pathways continue to change. That doesn't seem physically possible…"

"…some of his organs are just _liquefying!_ Even with life support, there's no way…"

Ida strained to hear more, but Hullum moved fast. In no time they reached the most secure room in the wing, used only for the worst-case scenario contagions. Outside, two armed Freelancers guarded the door. One had tan-coloured armour and was comparatively relaxed, probably more for the sake of those around him than anything else. York. The other looked much more nervous and was getting a little fidgety, with white and violet mostly Scout armour. Ida recognised him as Minnesota, one of the younger, less experienced agents of Project Freelancer.

She nodded at each in turn as Hullum opened the door and gestured her through. Inside the room there were two more armed guards –these ones expendable, rank-and-file soldiers –and three medics, each keeping their distance from the mass in the centre of the room.

The mass was certainly far from human, or at least on the road leading out. It retained a basic humanoid shape, but it was now a hideous greenish-brown colour and looked like something was growing from its right shoulder. Its right arm looked half-bone scythe. Ida could sympathise with those medics who had thrown up. She was tempted to do so herself.

But Freelancers were supposed to be made of sterner stuff, so she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut and headed towards the medic holding the thing's report. Without asking, she took it out of his hands and read through it.

"These are accurate?" Ida asked her.

"Yes, ma'am," the medic replied.

"You're sure?"

"Agent Idaho, I can assure you the report is as accurate as we can get," FILSS said. "Agent Michigan's heart has stopped. Most of his organs have liquefied, and his DNA is unrecognisable."

"Then why is he still here?" Ida asked, looking at the motionless lump in front of her. "I'm didn't sign on to perform a damn autopsy."

"You don't have to," one of the marines said. To demonstrate, he approached the thing, much to the protest of the medics, and prodded it with the barrel of his gun. The thing lunged towards him, held in check by the straps around its torso, legs, head and wrists. "It's not dead."

"No heartbeat," Ida stated. "Sounds pretty dead to me." But that didn't change the fact that the thing had moved, and not in a muscle-spasm sort of way.

"Apparently, the team found three sim-troopers in exactly the same state," Hullum said. "The three were hostile and attacked. Our guys fought 'em off, as well as some little things, and this guy got _scratched_ by one of the little things."

"This is out of our league," the medic who'd been holding the clipboard announced. "We should get to _Angel on My Shoulder_ or something. Get this thing in proper containment."

"Cool it, Clarke," Hullum ordered.

"I agree with her," Ida said. Nods from the other two medics. "We simply do not have the resources to deal with this sort of thing."

"I know," Hullum said. "But…" and here he lowered his voice, "this could be the only chance we get to accurately study one of these guys up close. There have been… reports… before, but all the specimens had been killed. The science community would go ballistic, and the Director wants to keep this behind closed doors. For now."

Ida turned to face the creature full-on. It still had remnants of the armour here and there. Hadn't they taken it off? The thing was humanoid but horribly inhuman. Michigan and her and never been close, but he'd been a friend of a friend. And, on occasion, a teammate. Always a rival. Now what was he? The terrifying equivalent of a lab rat.

"What exactly are we supposed to do with… it?" she asked.

"Monitor its progress," Hullum said. "See if it mutates any further. Alert everyone to any serious change in its condition. A couple of Freelancers'll be outside all the time. We keep it guarded, and we… watch."

Ida took a long look at the thing that had been Michigan. "Alright."

"What about his AI?" Ida finally asked.

"Stopped responding about five minutes before you came in," one of the other medics told her. "FILSS can no longer detect any recognisable trace of him." Ida nodded.

She took a few hesitant steps closer, and the… antennae (?) on its right shoulder leaned slightly in her direction. Its head had been pushed to the side to make room for what she assumed was some sort of sensor. The chest looked like something was growing just beneath the skin. She leaned in a little closer, her helmet hiding any expression from the medics and marines in the room.

"Dear God," she whispered, and moved away.

_4 Hours Later_

"This is ridiculous," Clarke muttered. She checked and re-checked the readouts. "It's mutating at a remarkable pace. I… don't even know how it's managed to do this without… without tearing itself apart. How is everything keeping up with this rate?"

Ida once again plucked the papers from Clarke's hand and read them herself. About ten minutes ago, the creature had become more lethargic when it lunged at people, and now the rate of its mutation had once again increased to impossible levels. Its bone-scythe arm had changed to become what could only be described as a tentacle, and the other arm now matched. The legs looked little more than logs now –still likely capable of movement, but with no feet and debateable balance.

But the real horror came from the former Michigan's upper body, which had swollen horribly, breaking the straps. Nobody felt particularly threatened by this fact –it looked slow and awkward, and any attempts to move on its part were held in check by the straps around its 'arms' and legs. There was no longer any recognisable head or neck, just a macabre giant balloon on top of a body.

Hullum looked tired –his face was hidden behind the expressionless visor, but Ida knew how someone held themselves when they were on the verge of collapsing. Clarke and Gugino weren't doing much better, but Browning was holding up well. Ida was a little impressed by that, seeing as she herself couldn't wait for the bloody shift to end.

Suddenly, the thing plopped itself back onto the table, no longer struggling against the restraints. The thing's balloon-like top wriggled and expanded, like things were pushing against it from underneath. Clarke and Browning made their way towards it, to get a better look at what was going on. Hullum backed off a little in surprise.

When Browning reached towards the creature, it burst.

_Agent Minnesota 'Sota'_

_Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Insecurity)_

Sota jumped when he heard the almost wet-sounding explosion from the room. He immediately cursed himself for it, because no less than five medics had stood witness, not to mention York, Wash and _Carolina_, the latter two here to take over as guards.

Carolina gestured for the medics to get back, an order which they gladly followed. She then, very calmly, knocked on the door once, twice, three times. The only answer was a single yell of 'Help!' which was all the encouragement the Freelancers needed.

Without any visible cue, York opened the door and then stood aside for the others to enter.

They didn't get a chance to take more than one step forward, as one of the small, balloon-like creatures Wash had described earlier launched itself at Carolina. Sota yelped and stumbled back, while Carolina struggled to keep the Beach-Ball at arms' length. She managed to throw if off –in the direction of Sota.

Sota fired as the thing got up and began to look for its next target, and the Beach-Ball exploded in a puff. The other three were already fighting off things that may have once been human.

Scared out of his wits, Sota slowly took a few steps forward and kept firing. Eventually Carolina walked up to one of the things and kicked it back inside the room, and the others followed suit. Three creatures stumbled back into the room, but one lunged at Sota when he got too close.

Sota flew back with the force of the hit, striking the corridor's wall before hitting the floor face-first. Wash and Carolina managed to get the mutant back inside while York closed and locked the door.

_Are you alright?_ Beta asked him.

_Fine,_ he assured her.

_I'm sorry. I couldn't sense the creatures with the motion tracker before the door was opened._

_Probably because they were standing still,_ Sota said. _Don't worry about it._

An incredibly pale blue light appeared next to Sota's helmet, and his AI appeared next to him in the form of a woman armoured up to her neck, with short blue hair and slightly disconcerting yellow eyes. Beta was one of only two feminine AI, and was in constant need of reinforcement. She was completely different from the one other feminine AI, Upsilon, who was incredibly confident and always joking.

Delta appeared next to York. "I believe it would be prudent to notify the Director of this development," he said.

Carolina nodded and radioed the bridge, giving them a rundown of what had happened.

"How many were in there?" Wash asked.

"Seven," Epsilon said. "And Michigan, but he…"

"Yeah," Wash nodded.

"Now what?" Sota asked.

"We stay here and guard the door," Carolina announced. "We're gonna dock with _Angel on My Shoulder_. Then it's their problem."

"When's that gonna be?" York asked.

"Docking? Not long. Getting permission _to_ dock? Could take hours."

"What?" Beta squeaked. "Why?"

"We need to give them all the medical details the docs already got so they can… I don't know; make sure they can handle it. Get the facilities ready," Carolina said.

"The process should not take more than three hours," Mu announced, the AI's teal armour forming in mid-air.

"Way too long," Omicron moaned. "Something's going to go wrong before then!"

"Omicron," Carolina said warningly. Omicron's pale red light winked out.

The Freelancers got comfortable, preparing for a long three hours of listening to the monsters bash on the wall.

**A/N: Not all that much action in this chapter, either. Anyway, I promise more as soon as the story gets into full swing. Also, Agent Minnesota (and Beta, by extension) do not belong to me. They belong to NeoMalley of (I'm not sure whether he's on FFN or not). Anyway, I don't own Halo, or Red vs Blue, but I do own Idaho and Massachusetts. And Michigan. And their little AI, too.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Y'know how I said I think posting would be easier now that school's started? It was because of more 'inspiration' or whatever. Turns out there's lots of inspiration but no time. So sorry this took ages, but I really haven't had much chance to work. I'm posting this over working on my English assignment right now, anyway.**

_Agent Carolina_

_Artificial Intelligence: Mu (Confidence(?)) and Omicron (Pessimism)_

"This is getting ridiculous," Carolina muttered. Though her words hadn't necessarily been directed at him, Minnesota nodded eagerly. It hadn't even been an hour before the Freelancer's rumour mill had started running, and already everyone was wandering over to the _biohazard zone_ to see what they could see.

_One of them is going to start a riot,_ Omicron whined. _How are we going to fight off all of them?_

_No one's going to start a riot, _Mu said. _Not when _we're_ around._

_Those things keep bashing against the walls…_

_Omicron! _Carolina growled. _Those walls are five inches thick. Airtight! Nothing is getting through._

_Something will go wrong. Something _always_ goes wrong._

Carolina groaned, thankful that only Minnesota (and Beta) was around to hear it. Minnesota was too intimidated to show much concern, and the last thing she wanted was concern. The last thing she needed was people knowing she was having trouble with her AI. Mu wouldn't let her _consider_ failing, and if they did, then he would immediately place the blame on one of the other agents –or, if there was no one else, Carolina. Mu never accepted that he'd been beat. And Omicron was in some ways better, but in others worse –he was _always_ sure they would fail, and if they did, he would never place the blame on anyone specifically. He saw it as a foregone conclusion. And he never _shut up_.

York and Wash were cautioning away onlookers, from an insistent South Dakota to a pleading trooper. The Director was not initiating a full lock-down or a more stringent quarantine –probably sure the walls were more than enough to contain the… things. Carolina suspected that having guards around was less to keep the monsters in than to keep the others out.

"I can feel the banging in my skull," Minnesota stated. The creatures were indeed making an unholy racket as they tried to punch their way out of their prison. Carolina had been too distracted by her AI to pay much attention.

"Minnesota –"

"Sota," he corrected, then hunched slightly, as if expecting a rebuke.

_Are we really so terrifying?_ Omicron mused.

_Yes,_ Mu replied, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Sota," Carolina nodded. The kid relaxed. "How's your shoulder?" He had neither broken nor dislocated it when he took the hit, but he was still rubbing it now and then. It was a convenient way to start a conversation with someone other than her AI.

"…Stings," he admitted. "I'm fine, though."

Beta's form appeared, and Carolina prepared herself for a potential onslaught of panicked questions. Beta was generally treated as a baby sister by most of the AI, and while few were openly cruel to her, she only spoke to a very select group. Carolina, as she had found out a few weeks ago, was part of that group. Omicron and Mu were not.

"What are those things?" Beta asked. The fact that it had taken her this long to ask probably meant she'd spent the entire forty minutes trying to figure it out for herself, maybe asking Sota for help.

_The result of a horrible virus,_ stated Omicron. Carolina didn't argue, because despite how cheap-horror-movie the idea sounded, he seemed to be right.

"Did you see those little ones? Like what Sota shot?" Carolina asked. In their few encounters, Carolina had learned that dealing with Beta took patience and gentleness. Anything less and the insecure AI would close up and possibly 'cry'.

Beta nodded, her artificial blue hair bobbing.

"One of those scratched Michigan," she explained. "And that infected him with something. And he turned into… one of those larger creatures."

"How did the others get infected?"

Carolina sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess whatever restraints they used just weren't enough."

Beta cocked her head to the side, and then asked, "What happened to Eta?"

_We still hear him,_ Omicron moaned.

_It's not him,_ Mu cut in. _That virus, or whatever it is, infected Eta just as bad as it did Michigan._

"…You tell me," Carolina said eventually.

Beta's eyes widened, and she shook her head profusely. "I don't want to talk to him! He's scary!"

Carolina raised an eyebrow at this –Eta was not generally thought of as 'scary'. 'Annoying' was a more commonly used descriptor.

"Calm down," Sota told his AI. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to."

Beta's hologram disappeared as Sota's posture became more relaxed, expression distant –it was the usual pose of a Freelancer deep in conversation with their AI. Some Freelancers spent more time in this state than others.

_I don't like it here,_ Omicron insisted. _It feels bad. Can't you sense that something bad is going to happen?_

_We'll be fine,_ Mu snapped. _Five-inch thick walls, remember?_

_But –_

_Omicron. _Carolina's tone demanded attention. _If you do not stop repeating that something is going to go wrong, I am ordering you offline. Do you understand?_

…_Yes,_ Omicron sulked.

A commotion interrupted Carolina and Sota's respective conversations. Another couple of Freelancers were demanding to see what was going on –but these two weren't dissuaded by Wash and York. One's voice grew in volume as the argument went on, and the other stood there implacably, interjecting with calm remarks to give her support. Carolina recognised the white and blue Mark VI armour of Utah, and the smoky red and purple, similar in design to Carolina's, of Alaska.

"Sota, stay here," Carolina ordered. Both Mu and Omicron cried out at that, certain that Sota couldn't handle it on his own. Then logic caught up to Mu, and he reminded Omicron of how tough the walls were (again) and how they wouldn't be too far away if something went wrong (a fact that did little to comfort Omicron).

Doing her best to ignore her AI, Carolina pushed away from the door and headed towards the four other agents.

"What do you mean I can't see her?" Utah demanded. "What's wrong with Ida?"

"Sorry, Utah," Wash said. "But this place is quarantined. We have orders to keep it qui–"

"It didn't happen to her, did it?" Utah interrupted, voice rising to an almost shrill quality. "What happened to Michigan _couldn't _have happened to her."

Alaska put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "We already know about the disease," she stated calmly, her Russian accent shining through despite years away from home. "Did it spread to Idaho and the medics?"

"There were a few Marines in there, too," Utah murmured, the fight in him gone for now.

"How did you find out?" Carolina cut in.

"Montana told us," Utah said.

"If I may," Delta said, hologram flickering into existence next to York's head. "Since the AI Pi showed a holographic image of both the smaller forms –termed 'Beach-Balls', by Agent Massachusetts –and the humans infected at Beaver Creek in front of several Marines as well as agents Washington and Kentucky, it would appear that word has spread via rumour."

"Wash?" Carolina asked.

"…I only told Maine and North!" he swore. "And that was _before_ the Director told us to keep it quiet!"

"There's no point in trying to keep it quiet," Alaska said. "Everyone has some idea of what's happening, and the rumours seem to be getting far worse than whatever the truth may be."

"Great," Carolina muttered. The new information had gotten Mu and Omicron bickering again.

"Alright," York said. "Yes, Idaho's been… infected. I'm sorry."

"So you locked her up?" Utah snapped.

"We have orders, Utah," Carolina replied.

"Look, Utah, we'd love to help, but –ngh!"

York's placating speech was cut off with a punch to the face, sending him back into the wall. Utah used the surprise it bought him and pushed past the other two, sprinting to the door where whatever passed as Idaho was locked along with the medics and Marines.

Alaska clearly had not expected this, but hesitated to go after her friend. Wash took a step towards York, then Utah, unsure of what to do. Carolina, with Mu's spurring, had no such qualms. Even Omicron helped with his absolute certainty that they would fail pushing Carolina to _prove him wrong_.

But as she leaped after him, a red-armoured hand grabbed her wrist, tugging her back. Alaska had instinctively tried to stop the threat to Utah, but let go the instant her mind caught up to her body.

_We're too late,_ Omicron said.

_No, we're –_ Mu's angry exclamation stopped when he realised just how right Omicron was.

Sota, distracted by Beta's questions, hadn't been able to react in time. Utah had slammed him against the wall, leaving the younger agent out of the fight for now.

Like York, Utah was labelled an infiltration specialist –a hacker. And that was how he was able to open the door _just_ before Carolina reached him.

In one of Omicron's smarter moments, he didn't say anything along the lines of 'I told you so'.

Alarms flashed all over the place. "Quarantine breached," FILSS announced. "Initiating sector lockdown."

"Ida!" Utah yelled. What had once been a medic –maybe even Ida –launched itself at Utah and knocked him to the ground.

_We can't save them,_ Omicron said, for once not whining. He sounded shell-shocked.

Omicron had a point with Utah –there was no way he was getting up. So Carolina grabbed Sota's arm, and dragged him to his feet, tugging him along behind her as they raced to the edge of the biohazard sector.

York, Wash and Alaska were already safe, probably because of Alaska's cold practicality overriding York and Wash's desire to help. Carolina silently thanked her for that, though still cursed her for having slowed her down. They would be having a talk about that later.

"Wha–?" Sota managed, not entirely recovered from Utah's hit.

Ignoring Sota's question, Mu's half-crazed laughter, Omicron's disturbing silence, and her own general _anger_, Carolina kept running, Sota doing his best to keep his feet under him.

_Mu!_ Carolina snapped, breaking through his… hysterics? _Sprint, now!_

Without a word, Mu activated her second armour enhancement –a piece of equipment allowing her to run at ridiculous speeds.

_Easily a match for a Spartan,_ Mu declared, the danger momentarily forgotten.

Sota could barely keep his feet on the ground and was reduced to trying to be as small a load as possible. Carolina tightened her grip on him, and the end of the hallway was in sight, with Alaska and Wash gesturing wildly. York –he must be the reason they weren't locked in yet, keeping their exit open.

Sota yelled a warning the same time Mu and Omicron screamed _Alarm!_

The sound of their combined voices at full volume in her head stung, but was nothing compared to the pain in her leg following the sharp _crackcrackcrack_ of an assault rifle.

_The infected Marines can still fire their weapons,_ Omicron noted.

Carolina and Sota crashed to the ground, skidding past Wash and Alaska. Carolina let go of Sota and Alaska caught him, while she crashed into the wall. The blast doors slid shut behind them, closing off the creatures. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, which faded when the other four noticed Carolina's injuries.

"Oh, shit," Alaska said. Her voice was still eerily calm. What, was she in shock?

"Sota?" Carolina asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

Carolina tried to rise, but cursed when pain shot through her left leg. There were several bullet marks on both legs, but only four on the left had managed to penetrate her armour. 'Only' being used in a relative sense, of course.

"York," she said. "Call a medical team."

**A/N: Poor Carolina. This is the first time I've written from a canon character's POV in something that wasn't a one-shot, so please tell me how I did. And on another site, I was asked 'how long is that hallway?' that she's running through, and I suppose I may not have made that clear, but it was actually a sector she had to run through.**

**Reviews are great, con-crit is amazing.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Agent Connecticut_

_Artificial Intelligence: N/A_

Among the Freelancers, there was an informal procedure for after a mission. This had been established within the first few weeks, with neither any discussion nor any notable sign of organisation. First you would give the Director a five-second debriefing, then shower, then change into whatever you were most comfortable in (for some Freelancers, this meant straight back into armour, for reasons the others couldn't fathom) and then write up your report.

CT was almost done with this last, looking forward to some sleep, when the alarms began to blare.

She jumped to her feet, instinctively reaching for a rifle that was now in the armoury. CT looked at her bunk (uncomfortable, yes, but it got better with time) and then at her armour, and then sighed. The Director would have to wait for his report, and she'd have to wait for her eight hours.

CT paused before putting her helmet on, remembering Michigan's face the last time she'd seen him, and thinking about the strong possibility that he was worse off now. It was likely that something about Mich's condition was behind the alarm.

She tried to repress the thought that tried to get to the front of her mind –that Mich was one of those monsters they'd seen at Beaver Creek. In the locker room, she'd overheard Tennessee and Maryland gossiping about Mich and what had happened on the mission. Most of what they said was complete bullshit, warped by a grown-up game of Chinese Whispers. But they _had_ said something about Mich already turning…

CT pushed the thought away.

There was one way to find out.

"FILSS, what's happening?"

It took the AI a full five seconds to respond –too long, going by FILSS's nature. Whatever the situation on the ship was, it seemed to be taking its toll on FILSS.

"Multiple hostile –" FILSS's voice cut off abruptly, then restarted, "Multiple infected personnel have es-escaped the biohazard zone. Sector lockdown has been initiated. A-all active units are to –"

"FILSS?" CT asked, fixing her helmet into place.

"…prepare themselves for a possible outbreak," FILSS managed. CT frowned. The AI sounded like a stressed secretary, like she was taking a beating from something. She'd never heard FILSS drop the cheery voice before, let alone stutter and pause. It was an emergency, with the slow and steady siren testifying that to anyone with ears. But even taking that into consideration, FILSS's behaviour was unusual.

_Think about it later,_ CT decided. _Figure out exactly what's going on _now.

With this in mind, she left her room for the hallway, heading towards the cafeteria. There should be someone who knew _something_ there. And if there wasn't, she could always turn to the wild but interesting theories of various Freelancers.

The hallways were empty on her way –very unusual around this time. It became apparent why when CT finally opened the door to the cafeteria.

Almost all of the Freelancers were in the room, as well as many troopers. She looked around, trying to assess who would be able to give her the best information. She settled on York, who was talking to Wash, Alaska and another agent –Louisiana, the guy who specialised in tactics.

She manoeuvred through the room with some difficulty –it was packed pretty tight. She ducked past South, who seemed to be in a slightly one-sided argument with Maine, squeezed between Minnesota and Montana, and outright shoved Vermont out of the way before reaching the other side of the room.

With or without the helmet, it was obvious that Alaska was raising an eyebrow at CT's unusual entrance. None of the others seemed to really care, either too used to it or too busy talking. Wash had pulled a chair over and sat, flipping his helmet around over and over again. Epsilon, by his shoulder, jolted with each movement.

"Hey, Connie," he said. CT frowned at that –he _knew_ how much she hated that name –but let it slide. The others mumbled similar greetings.

"What's going on?" she asked, skipping niceties.

"There's been a sector lockdown," Louisiana told her. And then, after a moment, "Thanks to your Mich."

CT frowned at the 'your Mich' comment.

"We're not entirely sure what's going on _now_," York said.

"But a while ago these idiots let Utah bust out a bunch of horrible monsters and now everyone's terrified they'll break through quarantine and start killing everyone," Lou drawled, earning him a glare from three Freelancers.

"Counsellor's worried the little ones'll get through the air vents," Wash said.

"And the Director doesn't think it's possible?" CT guessed. A few long-suffering sighs told her to be quiet.

"He _should_ be right on this one, actually," Alaska said.

"Even the small ones are too big to fit into the vents," York agreed. "Won't be a problem."

"What _will_ be a problem is safely transferring the bastards from the _Mother_ to _Angel on my Shoulder_," Lou said. "They've got a whole sector to move freely –a small one, but a decent area. And we don't exactly have a low-risk way to restrain them. Plus, Carolina's down for the count and no one's seen Texas all day."

"Carolina?"

"She was shot," Wash told CT.

A beat, in which CT stared at Wash in half-horror, half-confusion.

"But she's fine," he added quickly.

"Would've been nice if the information that they could _shoot_ got passed along," Alaska muttered.

"You guys didn't know?" CT asked.

"_I_ did," Wash said. "I guess I just assumed Carolina had been told."

Another round of long-suffering sighs.

"Imagine what would happen if one of them got a rocket launcher," Alaska murmured.

"Not helping, Ali," Lou said.

There was a pause, where the Freelancers tried to find something else to say, many of them unwillingly entertaining the idea Alaska had put into their minds.

"Hey, guys?" Epsilon said. Wash nearly dropped his helmet in surprise, but recovered quickly.

"Y'know Eta, right? The annoying one?" he continued.

"Yeah?"

"Well, he's…"

When Epsilon trailed off, a new voice spoke up –Delta. "What Epsilon means is that Eta seems to have been affected either by his host's death of the disease itself. He is currently trying to get in contact with several AI, and I believe he may cause problems."

"Problems?" York said.

"FILSS," CT muttered.

"That is an accurate assessment, Connecticut," Delta said.

"FILSS has to respond to us –safety protocols," Epsilon said. "He would've had a great chance to plant a virus or something."

"Can you guys do that?" Wash asked.

"_We_ can't," Delta said. "Safety protocols prohibit us from attacking a friendly AI outside of our own training."

"But if whatever happened screwed Eta up enough…" Epsilon prompted.

"Then those safety protocols could be ignored?" Lou asked.

"Taking Eta's behaviour up to this point into account, I would say _deleted_ would be more likely," Delta corrected, "and possibly replaced with skills. Eta never was able to create a virus strong enough to disrupt something like FILSS."

"That makes no sense," Alaska said.

"Agreed," York muttered. "D, explain please."

"Judging by Eta's behaviour, the disease has some intelligence," Delta said.

"York, have you been letting Delta watch zombie movies?" CT asked.

"No," York said.

"Ep, is that possible?" Wash asked.

"Unlikely, but possible," Epsilon replied.

"Heta?" Lou asked. A little pale grey light formed a person.

"I agree with Epsilon's assessment," he said. "While unlikely, previous reports on something similar encountered support it."

"Reports where?" Epsilon asked.

Heta didn't answer.

"Damn it, Heta. I told you to keep your nose out of anything marked 'classified'!" Lou growled. His AI didn't flinch a bit, only shrugged.

"Hey, guys," Alaska said in the quiet. "I think we're missing the point. If this thing can screw with FILSS, doesn't that mean it could open the doors?"

"W-warning, sector lockdown breached, all units –" FILSS's voice cut off as abruptly as it had started.

All eyes were on Alaska.

"I could almost _feel_ that coming, just as I said it," she said.

**A/N: This has been sitting on my computer for weeks. Sorry about the delay, and the filler. In any case, I'm on holidays now, so I should get more time to write –once I get back from a weekend camp. Hope you enjoyed, and all reviews are welcome, though con-crit especially.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Ok guys, listen up. With the advent of season 10, this story is thrown out of canon. So from now on, I'm not going to try too hard to stick to it. In other words, main characters (canon characters) may end up dead. I'm not entirely sure, but they might. Sorry if this bothers you.**

**Oh, and if anyone's read 'Top of the Board' the Nevada in this is slightly different from the one there. Same basic personality, just tweaked a little/lot. Also, she specialises in explosives this time round.**

**I know I haven't updated recently. I'm sorry.**

_Agent South Dakota_

_Artificial Intelligence: N/A_

The T-intersection corridor was eerily silent, despite the fact that the next team was only 25m or so away. South shifted uncomfortably, hating the quiet when she was expecting a fight.

With FILSS shut down for safety, the _Mother of Invention_'s crew had had to shift to running the ship by themselves. While this was happening, the infection was allowed to spread before anyone could make a plan. On the 'bright' side, they had enough fodder to distract them from spreading very far.

It hadn't taken too long to shift to manual, but the minutes wasted cost at least a few dozen people their lives.

Next to South, Nevada tried to pick at her nails before realising that she had her armour on. The green-and-grey agent crouched next to the wall, carefully below North's likely field of fire. South had done the same with Illinois, the quiet tall guy, but as a further precaution gave him a glare that told him _precisely_ what would happen if a bullet from him so much as grazed her. The narrow hallway wasn't the best place for a four-man team shooting in the same direction, although it was better than being ridiculously outnumbered by the Flood.

The Flood. The Director had given them a name or found out their name or something.

The bridge bunnies had mapped out the likely spread of the Flood, and the Freelancers now formed a blockade in front of any possible exit from that area. So far, there'd been nothing. No attacks or attempts to get past. Not a blip from the motion tracker.

They'd been sent to defend the rest of the _Mother of Invention_ from those things, but so far, there wasn't much to defend against.

"Please, nobody say something like 'it's too quiet' or 'looks like there's nothing here'," Nevada whispered. South wasn't entirely sure whether she was joking or not. It didn't sound like Nevada was sure, either. "You'll jinx it."

"You just said both," North pointed out.

"Doesn't count!"

North and Nevada continued their hushed argument, filling the time. Theta and Kappa chimed in occasionally, defending their host's view. South and Illinois –and Zeta, Illinois's AI –remained quiet. They weren't in the mood to humour either of them. Hell, Illinois seemed to be taking a few steps away from the others.

South hated the waiting. She'd been prepped for a fight and there was none. She felt damn cheated.

"Alarm," Theta's high-pitched voice announced. Everyone jumped, except for Illinois who just prepared to shoot at the next available target. "Incoming hostiles. Two slow, about a dozen fast, coming from the right."

"Thirteen fast," Kappa confirmed a moment later. South and Nevada hunkered down a bit more, getting as far out of the other two's way as possible. Illinois moved closer to get a better angle.

South's motion trackers were coloured red with dots, and she smirked. _About time._

The first of the appropriately nicknamed Beach-Balls leaped around the corner of the next intersection, scurrying towards the Freelancers as fast as their tentacle-legs would carry them.

Three assault rifles emptied their magazines into the mass of creatures, popping them like balloons. When the two infected… technicians rounded the corner, two shotgun blasts from North took them out.

With the exception of Illinois, the team all had exactly the same satisfied look on their faces. South was on the verge of saying 'too easy' but decided Nevada wouldn't be too happy about her tempting fate… and that she really wasn't too eager to push it, either.

"This is Team D reporting, group of hostiles down. Over," North announced over the radio.

"Nice work, Team D," Tex said distractedly.

Her excuse for disappearing earlier was simply that she had gone on some stupid solo mission and no one had been told. In light of Project Freelancer's most recent shitstorm, she was called back. The first thing she did upon returning to the _Mother of Invention_ was reprimand York, the highest-rated Freelancer at hand, for letting them out in the first place.

Five agonisingly slow minutes passed without incident, and once again South began to feel impatient. The swift skirmish hadn't done much to satisfy her need for a fight.

They heard York broadcast Team B's easy win over a small group of buggas and a Flood Marine, and then later Louisiana reported Team H's win… with one casualty. Agent Vermont had been killed and the surviving infected personnel dragged him off as they retreated. Team H had been attacked by a group far larger than either previous attempt.

"How many do you think there are?" Nevada asked quietly after Louisiana had finished his tale.

"A few dozen," North told her. "Mostly troopers caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's just the big ones," South added. "The little guys are everywhere."

Nevada was quiet for a moment, then asked, "How long are we gonna be here for?" Apparently South wasn't the only one getting sick of waiting.

"However long we're told to be here for," South muttered, silently lamenting their distinct lack of overtime.

Nevada looked like she was about to continue, but North interrupted her.

"Got something on trackers," he said. Illinois nodded.

There were four small blips on South's motion trackers. The numbers were small, but South shrugged, willing to take what she could get. They looked to be just around the left corner, as far as the trackers' range went. The team tensed in anticipation, training their weapons towards their soon-to-be targets.

Nothing happened.

"What if we made a noise?" Nevada whispered. "Draw them out?"

North whistled. The dots moved slightly, and South could swear she glimpsed one of the Beach-Balls peeking out, but nothing else. They didn't attack or come into sight.

South scowled. "I say we just go up there and shoot 'em. There are _four_ of the little guys. It will take two seconds." She straightened up and made to move forward.

"There are four that we _know_ of. There could be many more outside of tracker range –entirely possible, given that our trackers' range is limited to just around the corners. With our current objective being to prevent the spread of the Flood infection rather than eradicate it, I believe it would be more prudent to remain here."

North, South and Nevada stared at Illinois. They'd never heard him speak so much since he'd been given Zeta. Illinois merely met their gaze coolly and with no further comment.

"We'll just wait here for now," North said. He didn't sound too sure, and South was certain that if she pushed she could get her way. But she didn't. Illinois –someone she'd only ever really known as silent and apathetic –had been willing to use three sentences to talk her out of it. With the option of running and shooting temporarily gone, staying the hell away was looking like an attractive plan B. So she went back to crouching quietly.

After another tense, frustrating and confusing five minutes, the four dots disappeared altogether.

Nevada was the first to breathe a sigh of relief, but she wasn't the last. South relaxed a little, shifting slightly to lean more against the wall. Of course, because it just seemed to be _that_ sort of day, the relief was as short-lived as the twins' childhood Sea Monkeys.

The COM crackled to life and over it were many yells, loud gunfire, and excessive use of certain four-letter-words. South noticed that the sounds weren't just coming from the COM –she could hear them live from around the next corner to her right.

"This is Team H," Louisiana spat out. "We've got a problem. Too many of these bastards –request _immediate_ reinforcements." Louisiana let the radio run for a second more, letting everyone hear the sounds of a big fight, before cutting it off completely.

"…South, Minnesota, go help them," Tex ordered. South frowned and shifted anxiously. It was Tex's voice. She sounded… not frightened, exactly, but angry and unfocused. Anger wasn't unusual for her, but being distracted in the middle of a life-or-death mission _was_. There was no way this was a good sign.

South shook it off, barked a 'yes, ma'am' over the radio that was echoed by Sota a moment later, and left her team.

"South, be careful," North yelled after her. She rolled her eyes, but waved behind her to let him know she heard.

Tex had taken one person from each of the two closest teams to go help Team H. That way, no team would have to halve its strength. However, South thought that maybe more than two people would be needed. She hated to think she couldn't handle it, but from the noises getting louder as she neared the corner…

"Um, Tex?" Sota mumbled, having beat South to Team H. Sota's voice was a mix of terror of the sight in front of him and fear of pissing Tex off. "I think we'll need some more help."

South rounded the corner ready to fire, coming face to face with an infected Marine. It roared and raised its mutated arm, aiming to crash it down across her helmet. She ducked to the side and fired her Magnum –once, twice, three times. The thing staggered, then collapsed.

One down. But South's victorious smirk was wiped from her face as she took in the scene before her.

Team H, already down to three from the loss of Vermont, was now down one more member. Agent Oregon was being dragged away down the corridor by a Flood-turned medic.

Louisiana and Montana were struggling with at least a dozen Flood in the tiny corridor, with Sota scrambling to cause some damage. And all through this, the Beach-Balls scurried around their feet, attempting to jump on any of the Freelancers.

"Tex, get some more people over here!" South snapped over the radio. She didn't bother to wait for a response before she barrelled down the corridor.

Two former Marines turned their attention towards her. They lumbered forward, a small wave of the Beach-Balls preceding them.

South quickly switched to her assault rifle and took out the smaller threat. She swapped back to her pistol and focused her attention on the infected.

"_Agent South Dakota,_" a voice said from her radio. "_It is wise to shoot them in the shoulder, chest area –where the antennae are. Drops them quicker._"

It took her a while to identify it as Heta, Lou's AI. She grunted a terse 'thanks' before following his advice.

Two down, God only knew how many more to go.

More Flood poured in. The four Freelancers were horribly outnumbered. _Where the hell is backup, damn it?!_

South stayed away from the thick of the fight, knowing there was no room for her there. Lou and Montana would have to handle it themselves.

As she shot down an infected Freelancer –Utah? Vermont? Oregon? She didn't pause to identify –South grimaced as she remembered her wish for a fight from earlier. Maybe little Nevada was onto something with that whole 'tempting fate' deal.

While one more infected Marine fell at her feet, something batted her arms down –her Magnum flew from her grip and bounced off the wall. The large Flood raised its arms with frightening speed, crashing them down before she could rip the assault rifle from her back.

South felt the hit right through her armour, the thing's weight pushing her against the wall and forcing the breath from her lungs. It rushed forward and she fumbled desperately, finally able to grasp her rifle. She aimed her shots at its legs –the thing stumbled, but kept coming.

South raised the rifle in defence, shielding her face from the inevitable hit. But then shots were fired, not from Lou, Montana or Sota, and she glimpsed the large Flood as it collapsed on the ground.

Illinois stood above her, taking out anything that got too close while she recovered.

South searched for her Magnum, heart sinking as she finally saw it. It had slid all the way into the thick of the fight, and she didn't particularly want to run in and get it.

Illinois grunted, a wordless sign of impatience. He wanted South up and back in the fight. South scowled, but complied.

"Tex!" someone snarled into the radio. South wasn't sure who –it sounded male, and could well have been Lou. "We could _really_ use some help here, sweethea–"

"Don't you _dare_," Tex snarled back. "And they're on their way. Quit your–"

South assumed that the last word in that sentence would've been 'bitching' or something along those general lines. Of course, she never actually heard it, because by then things had gone from bad to total shitstorm.

She heard Montana cry out –short, sharp and full of pain –and South and Illinois watched as she fell. The little bastards were on her in seconds.

With no one to watch his back, Lou took a hit –and another, and another.

"Help him," Illinois snapped at South. "Use your pistol!"

South decided to save her scathing remark for later. She aimed carefully with her rifle, her pistol still halfway across the hall, picking off two ex-Marines and giving Lou a tiny bit of breathing space. Sota soon widened that gap from his end. Illinois made sure South stayed safe while she fired, taking out anything –Beach-Ball or infected –that came their way. South knew someone was doing the same for Sota, but she couldn't see who.

Lou stumbled out of the thick of the fight, battered but nowhere near down. He found South's Magnum and kicked it to her. He fired at anything that was in his sights, clearing a path to South and Illinois.

South stopped firing for a second to scoop up the pistol. The Flood poured from the corridor, and completely blocked off the other side. South could no longer see Sota or whoever had been helping him.

She would never say it out loud, but she hoped they were alive.

"You were saying about that backup, Agent Texas?" Lou laughed bitterly. South could see he was exhausted. Spending a lot of your time in armour, you get to learn body language very well. And Lou looked like he was gonna collapse.

"We have our own problems at the moment," Tex replied. Her voice didn't have as much bite as before –she was distracted. "Teams B, C and F have been attacked. I would suggest you fall back to D."

Since they had already been forced back to the corner, getting to Team D should be easy. When South glanced away from the enemies in front of her, she saw Nevada crouching next to a wall and fiddling with… something. North caught her eye and gestured to the open door next to them.

The armoury. It was easy to lock. They could hide in there.

_Hiding?_

The thought did a number on South's pride. But one more look at the flood of Flood heading her way made her swallow it.

The three Freelancers backed down the hallway, now back around the corner South had raced past earlier. Lou was leaning against the wall as he backed up, favouring his right side heavily. Illinois made sure to keep him as well covered as he could.

"Hold them there, please," the calm, light voice of Nevada sounded through the radio. The Flood and gunfire made it impossible to hear her through anything else, even if they were less than ten metres away by this point. "I need a little more time."

Glancing back, South saw what Nevada was fiddling with. Mines. LOTUS anti-tank mines, attached to the walls several metres up from entrance to the armoury. North had his sniper rifle and was now picking off whichever infected Marines, medics and engineers Lou, Illinois and South missed.

"How long's this gonna take, kid?" Lou demanded, spraying bullets across the ground in front of him, bursting several Beach-Balls as he did.

"A few more seconds, please."

South took her words at face value, and prepared to run as soon as she emptied her magazine.

"Done."

South whirled around and sprinted for the armoury, passing Nevada without a second thought. She turned back as she reached the door, firing at anything that got too close to the three retreating agents –Lou, jogging backwards and barely giving accuracy a thought as he fired; Nevada, fiddling with a datapad and cursing as her speed made her clumsy; and Illinois, glancing back every now and then while keeping a guiding hand on Nevada's arm.

They arrived and ducked into the armoury as the twins held the Flood off. Once they were safely inside, South followed, with North slamming the door behind them. For a while there was no sound except for the heavy breathing of the Freelancers, then North said,

"Nevada, I'm not hearing any explosions."

"Wait, please." The smaller agent seemed to have withdrawn into herself, leaving an endlessly polite front in her place. The room was once again silent as Nevada tilted her head to the side, focusing on _something_.

She tapped a button on her datapad, and one, two, three, four blasts rocked the hallway. She nodded, satisfied.

"That should have taken out at least a dozen of them big guys –I saw them coming around the corner as I was working, all together." South was almost certain there was a bright smile behind that visor, and she tried hard not to be disturbed by it. North she could see felt much the same.

Lou, on the other hand, nodded in approval. "Good girl."

Something began to bang on the armoury's door –and then several somethings joined in. South instinctively raised her rifle and levelled it at the door as Nevada, so calm before, squeaked and jumped back.

"Cool it, sweetheart," Lou drawled, a Southern accent suddenly very much in evidence, "they're not getting through."

Logically, South knew he was right. There was no way anything could _beat_ their way through those walls –hell, the mines probably hadn't done much more than scuff them up. The Director made sure that his ship could take a hell of a lot of damage should fighting happen inside it.

"Maybe they'll lose interest, soon," Nevada offered hopefully.

"In any case," North said, having collected his thoughts and taking the role of being practical, "we're not going anywhere any time soon. So, what should we do?"

Illinois shrugged and took a seat next to a couple of rocket launchers. Nevada copied him, sitting a little ways off.

Lou answered. "Can't do much but wait, really," he observed. He walked over to a rack and began inspecting various weapons. "We'll grab what we can while we're here, and wait for orders or help. Fifty bucks says the former comes first."

South didn't particularly like the predicament she was in: trapped in a small room with three people she barely knew and her brother. And, of course, their AI.

'Theta, can you give us some idea of what's happening outside?" North asked. Theta appeared in front of his helmet, looking thoughtful.

"Several cameras were destroyed or damaged in the LOTUS blast," he noted, taking that aren't-you-proud-of-me tone South hated so much, "so I can't give you anything really accurate. But… um… judging by the noise, a lot of Flood are trying to get in."

"I agree with Theta," a small voice piped in, and Kappa appeared, sitting on Nevada's shoulder.

"Thank you. That's _very_ helpful," South snapped. Theta turned to North to avoid the other twin's biting remarks, while Kappa wilted a little, hiding behind Nevada.

"_However_," Theta continued, right back into that aren't-you-proud-of-me tone, "motion trackers indicate there are twelve infected personnel and sixteen –what did you call them?– 'Beach-Balls' actively attempting to enter the armoury. Several others are in the hallway, just walking by. If we were to go outside now, we'd be overrun."

"So… we're stuck." Lou sighed, taking his dark orange helmet and running a hand through his hair. South knew he was one of the older Freelancers, although it didn't show. Years in armour had protected him from a lot of the scars one normally collects in this line of work. "Well, might as well make the best of a bad situation," and so the drawl returned, "I'm getting some shut-eye."

"Really?" Nevada looked at him doubtfully. "Now?"

"Kid, they can't get in and we can't get out. It's being opportunistic. Wake me up if we're about to die or be saved," Lou muttered, getting as comfortable as one could while wearing full body armour and preparing to sleep on a steel floor. Nevada looked from him to North, in a very not-subtle question.

"Go ahead," North waved the question away. "Theta and I can stay up."

Nevada nodded and lay down, curling into a little ball.

South glanced at Illinois, who was either already asleep or being creepily still. She shrugged, deciding she didn't care as long as he stayed there, and tried to get comfortable. She had a feeling it was going to be a long time before she had this opportunity again.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I feel like this is becoming too OC-y, so in later chapters I will endeavour to have it more from the point of view of canon characters.**

**This was originally going to be one chapter, but I had to cut it in half. So have a cliff-hanger, bitches.**

**Reviews, favourites and alerts are always much appreciated, so thank you in advance **

_Agent Alaska_

_Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Instinct)_

Sharpening a knife was a calming, repetitive time-killer and brilliant when you were on your own. However, as Alaska was finding out, around others it was liable to getting you killed by a certain black-armoured woman while one man cheered her on with snarky comments and the other stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to do.

"Keep it up, Alaska, I fucking dare you," growled Texas. Wash not-so-subtly backed a bit off, keeping out of the potential field of fire. Wyoming held his ground, smirking at the events in front of them. Maybe he was a closet perv, wanting a catfight? Or were catfights only between women fighting over a guy? Alaska wasn't entirely used to some of the slang yet. English wasn't her first language.

"My apologies, Texas," Alaska murmured, putting her knife back into its sheath. They had locked the door to this random supply room, separating themselves from the Flood. As she understood it, most of the Freelancers (the ones still alive, in any case) had done the same.

"What was that?"

Alaska tensed, Beta knowing full well the tone of someone out for a fight even if Alaska was still learning. She looked Texas straight in the eye (visor) and tried to look as calm as possible. She was good at that. Came from playing Russian roulette every week or so for two months a few years back.

Although, as she later learned, the gun hadn't actually been loaded because her brothers didn't actually want to kill her. But they would slap her if she got too freaked out.

"My apologies, Agent Texas… and artificial intelligence Omega," Alaska said, much louder than the first time. Washington shifted uncomfortably and Wyoming leaned forward in interest and anticipation. Alaska turned to give him a calm, calculating gaze through her armour and he backed up a bit.

Alaska's specialty was, frankly, assassination. Close up, but long distance if need be. Wyoming might be better with a sniper rifle, but she could take him hand to hand. Especially with Beta's help.

"That's better," Texas smiled, predatory. Something was wrong with her. Was Omega taking over? Influencing her more than what he was supposed to? Every little bit of her body language screamed _dangerous_. Beta's constant litany of _move, get out, try to avoid her, you _know _you can't take her_ wasn't helping Alaska stay calm, no matter how she appeared on the outside.

"So what's our next plan, chaps?" Wyoming asked.

Alaska remained silent, deciding that she didn't particularly want to risk pushing Tex any further. She quite liked having her spinal cord within her body, thank you very much.

Wash, however, had no such qualms.

"Shouldn't we just wait here for the Director to–?"

"Washington, any contact from the Director could be hours away," Tex growled. The (presumably) younger agent wilted under her gaze, and Alaska let herself feel sorry for him despite being more than happy that it wasn't her. "And that's assuming he's not dead _and_ hasn't left by now _and_ can still contact us."

"I'm not sure you're giving him enough credit," Wyoming cheerily replied. No one was ever _quite _sure when he was being sarcastic. It was like his voice only had three very similar tones. "I'm certain he would never abandon us here."

"Well, without orders, what do we do?" Wash asked.

"There's this little thing called initiative, Washington," Wyoming informed him. However, he still looked to Texas for a real answer.

"We'll wait for ten minutes. If we get nothing by then, we're busting out and heading for the docks!" she announced, looking around and daring any of them to challenge her.

"Yes, ma'am!" the other three chorused.

After that, they fell into silence for about thirty seconds before,

"Knock, knock."

"Wyoming, I swear to God…"

"Come on, Tex. It's not hurting anyone. Knock, knock."

"Alaska, give me that knife," Tex reached her hand out.

"Yes, ma'am," Alaska replied, unsheathing her knife and was about to place it in Tex's hand before Wyoming renounced his attempt at a joke.

"Sorry, sorry." Ok, so it was only half-sincere, but still. Might be enough to appease the stab-happy woman before him. "I'll stop."

Tex nodded and let Alaska keep her knife. "Good."

Silence fell once more, intensely awkward for Alaska and Wash although Tex and Wyoming couldn't seem to care less.

Since Beta apparently felt the boredom too, he placed a countdown on Alaska's HUD –of the remaining time before Tex's stated ten minutes ended. It was a nice distraction considering the alternatives (talking to a socially stunted man, a homicidal woman or a smug bastard) and Alaska mentally thanked him. She sensed rather than heard his 'you're welcome'.

Around the three minute mark, just as Alaska was starting to fall asleep in her helmet (she was almost certain Wash already had) a voice crackled from their radio. It was not the Director's almost painful Southern accent, no –it was the Counsellor's aggravatingly smooth voice.

"Team A, are you there?" he asked, almost soothingly which under the circumstances was rather inappropriate. "Can you hear me?"

Again, everyone turned to Tex to respond, which she did. "Hear you loud and clear, sir. Where's the Director?"

"Right here." While there was actually no scuffle or evidence of an argument to accompany the change in voice, Alaska couldn't help imagining the Director unceremoniously shoving the Counsellor to the side as the other man fell on his ass with nary a complaint. "Texas, we have an objective for you."

"So do we just stay here then?" Wyoming asked, settling in.

"My apologies. _Team A_, we have an objective for you," the Director replied snidely. You couldn't help but get that feeling that he viewed everyone in the room other than Texas in complete distaste.

"Tell us what to do, Director," Texas demanded.

"The medical bay is currently under a great deal of pressure thanks to the Flood," the Director drawled in monotone. "There are quite a few expensive pieces of equipment and personnel in there. Try to break through to them and help defend the area."

"Sir, we do have a limited amount of ammunition," Alaska pointed out. It was true. With the fighting beforehand, she only had a few clips left for her assault rifle and was all out for her pistol. And as confident as she was, she wasn't too interested in trying to take out one of those things with a knife.

"Then pick some up, Alaska," the Director snapped back. "There should be an armoury on your way there. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Texas answered for all of them.

Upon opening the door, the team found themselves in an empty hallway. Texas took point and was closely followed by Wash. Alaska and Wyoming walked next to each other –a fact Alaska wasn't particularly happy about. She wasn't all that fond of him and his stupid accent and he had the _nerve_ to make fun of hers on her first day.

Of course, Utah had been the one to tell him to fuck off and say it was an awesome accent…

Alaska swallowed a lump in her throat. Ok, so she'd lost someone. A friend, maybe. Two actually, including Ida. Maybe more… but she had to stay focused! When she was safe, she'd see who she had lost and _then_ grieve.

She could hold out until then.

The halls were still bright in this part of the ship, making it feel almost inappropriate compared to the horror the team knew was happening so close to them. No doubt about whether they'd get permission to dock with the _Angel on my Shoulder_ now. They were lucky they hadn't been blown to hell in some quarantine deal.

It wasn't too far to the nearest armoury, and Alaska felt a little embarrassed for piping up when she really should've thought of this. The home field advantage seemed to be the only edge the Freelancers had. She shouldn't waste it by not considering her surroundings.

"You two," Tex hissed, looking back at the Freelancers bringing up the rear as she approached the door, "stay out here and guard. Wash and I'll grab what we need."

"Yes, ma'am," Alaska murmured.

Tex punched in the door's code a little more violently than necessary and she and Wash disappeared inside. The second she had, Wyoming turned to Alaska.

"Knock, knock."

"Wyoming," she said warningly, "don't even start."

However, Alaska's warning lacked the same power Texas' held.

"Come on, Alaska, just trying to have some fun," he laughed. "Knock, knock."

Alaska chose the different tactic of ignoring him. Maybe he'd stop, or maybe she'd be able to outlast him until Texas came back and he shut it.

"Knock, knock."

_Damn it._

"Knock, knock."

_Just a little bit longer. Hurry up, Tex!_

"Knock. Knock."

And Beta began whispering in that naturally hushed tone of his.

"Wyoming, shut it," Alaska hissed, trying to concentrate on what her AI was telling her.

"Oh, come on, Ali. What's the harm in–"

"Wyoming," she said seriously, looking him straight in the eye even through the visor. "Please, shut it."

And he did.

_Something there. Around the next corner, watching. Something there. _Beta seemed a little panicked, but he almost always was.

_Beta, there's nothing on trackers. How do you know?_ Alaska tried to gently question the AI, although she didn't expect much. Beta was instinct, and nothing else. He just felt things.

_I just know. I can feel it._

That was more or less the response she was expecting.

_Check, now._

Alaska didn't understand how some people got so close to their AI, using manners and pleasantries. Beta had never seemed remotely interested in such things and didn't really have much of a personality. He wasn't annoying, and Alaska was grateful for his assistance, and in a way liked him a lot better than many of her other co-workers… but the way Utah had treated Iota made no sense to her.

Beta activated Alaska's armour enhancement, a simple sonar system with a range further than the motion trackers and the ability to determine the size and exact location of enemies (and allies) much more effectively.

Alaska checked the imaging coming up on her HUD. Nothing.

_Looks like you were wrong this time, Bee._ It wasn't the first time his instincts had led him astray, but it wasn't very common.

_Maybe not. Camera._

Alaska frowned, considering this. If there was a camera, it was likely it was just the Director or Counsellor… but that had never set Beta off before. Was the high-stress situation just getting to her AI?

"Ali, what's going on?" Wyoming whined, becoming impatient with her silence.

"Do _not_ call me that," she ordered. And then, "Beta thought there was something there. It's just a security camera."

"Control your AI," Texas's voice came unexpected, right behind her. Alaska avoided jumping in surprise, Wyoming did not.

"It's nothing to worry about, Texas," Alaska assured her. Wash handed her a few more magazines and Alaska pocketed them, giving him a nod in thanks.

"The med bay's entrance is right around the corner. _Stay close,_" Texas looked over each of them, and Alaska quashed the childish temptation to poke her tongue out. She was pretty sure Texas would be able to tell, somehow. She also quashed the temptation to say that she _knew where the damn med bay was, thank you_.

Now, two out of the four Freelancers here were suited for either long range or stealth combat. Those styles of combat are next to impossible when you must cross a narrow(-ish), brightly lit hallway filled with enemies that mob you the second the see you.

Which is exactly what the team was faced with as they rounded the corner, the med bay's barricaded entrance a good 25 metres away and more enemies flooding in from two connecting hallways further down.

As the first group of Flood tightly packed near the barricade turned almost in slow motion to meet the newcomers, Beta screamed _fire!_ into Alaska's mind.

And that's what she did.


	8. Chapter 8

_Agent Alaska_

_Artificial Intelligence: Beta (Instinct)_

It was Beta who told her when to duck, ensuring a smattering of unsteadily aimed (but still lethal) bullets hit the wall behind her. Alaska would have time to thank him later –now she focused on taking out the things trying to kill her.

The grand majority were the small ones. The ones that could infect you, she recalled with vague alarm. She aimed her rifle fire at them and smirked as a large group burst apart. Wyoming and Texas used their more precise weapons to trim down the numbers of the actual Infected, prioritising the ones with weapons.

Wash kept up his fire while Alaska paused to reload –she did the same when he ran out.

Alaska glanced at the barricade in front of the infirmary's doors. The people behind it must have heard the gunfire. She wondered if they could expect any help from that quarter, but kept her hopes down.

In any case, there wasn't as much Flood as she'd expected here. It should be easy to take them out.

_Too easy, too easy, too easy,_ Beta chanted into her mind. As much as she wanted to shove the AI's advice to the side and simply declare this as evidence of how strong the team was, Beta had been right too often before to dismiss him right off the bat.

More enemies flooded in, and were mowed down by more fire. They were steadily advancing on the four Freelancers through sheer force of numbers. The team didn't move an inch.

Texas used this to her advantage, her shotgun doing much more damage at the closer range. The bodies of the Infected piled up, creating a sort of obstacle course on the floor that slowed down the oncoming Flood, if only a little.

The enemies' numbers in front of them were dwindling, and the reinforcements from the two hallways ahead were becoming less and less frequent.

But still, _too easy, too easy, too easy…_

Alaska paused, knowing that excessive use of her enhancement could cause power problems with her armour later on. But they weren't exactly in the best position for a battle. It would be good to have a little more information or advanced warning should anything go wrong…

_Bee, take a look around._

Beta understood her request immediately, directing a sonar search away from the end of their current problems and back the way they had come. He didn't bother blocking any of her HUD with a display of his findings –he would inform her if anything important could be found. He was still suspicious of the camera from earlier, she knew, but had enough faith to decide he wouldn't let it distract him.

The stop at the armoury had replenished ammo, but they could only carry so much and the stream of enemies was again taking its toll. Considering the rate the Flood were arriving and thinning out, Alaska concluded that the hostiles would run out before the ammo did.

_Ambush!_

Scratch that.

Alaska spun around, ignoring Texas's "_Hey!"_, and used her advanced warning to take out the infection forms that flung themselves around the corner, where they had just been. Wyoming left Texas to deal with the bigger enemies in the direction of the med-bay and helped Alaska fend off the new threat.

But God knew it wouldn't be enough.

An increase in the amount of Flood coming from the med-bay direction confirmed it. They were far outnumbered, and even with their extra ammo, they'd run out before their enemy was gone. No help from the infirmary could be expected –the people in there were either injured or doctors, maybe a few simply trained guards.

Alaska found herself accepting the likelihood of her death. Strangely, she didn't feel scared, keeping herself occupied with targeting, shooting, taking out as many as she could before they got too close. Taking as many with her as possible.

A few explosions from the infirmary's direction made her glance to the side. Texas had run forward to face their enemy head-on, blazing a trail, and had stuck two spike grenades to a pair of larger Flood in her wake. Several fell, but more kept coming.

Beta was analysing the place –looking for potential escape routes, a way to win, maybe just a way to get back to the armoury stock up again and fight or hide… but he was coming up empty.

The poor situation seemed to get to Wash, whose aim became more erratic and whose breathing could now be heard getting faster and shallower. She sensed rather than saw Wyoming give him a slap across the head, order him to stay focused. Alaska didn't hold it against Wash. He was what, 23? In the younger half of the agents, in any case. Dying probably wasn't something he'd really thought about, even with his military background.

Texas had actually managed to clear a path (more or less) to the med-bay's barricaded doors. With her at the convergence point, the Flood coming through from that direction became significantly less. From the aura surrounding her, Alaska got the feeling that when she ran out of ammo and grenades Texas would just start ripping them apart with her bare (well, armoured) hands.

_And then move on to us_.

Alaska didn't reproach Beta for that comment. Nor did she entirely disagree.

_Then_ the interesting thing happened. A grenade went off, far enough away from Texas to not cause her any damage but not thrown by her. Wash yelped in surprise and Wyoming angrily told him to get back to shooting before the damn Flood got too close. Alaska continued to methodically pepper the ground with bullets, preventing the Beach-Balls from getting close enough to launch themselves at them while keeping half an eye on the situation at Tex's end.

The person who had thrown the grenade now stood on top of the barricade with two Magnums, in turquoise-y blue armour, especially battered on her left leg.

"My turn," Carolina said quietly.

While Alaska was more than happy for the help, and mentally promised Carolina to not demand what took her so long, Tex snarled at the new arrival.

Carolina ignored the black-clad Freelancer though, leaping from her position to land in front of a two Flood-infected Marines, standing between them and Wash, and taking them out with a few shots from her Magnum. She was heavily favouring her right side, the damage done from the earlier fight in the biohazard zone not completely healed, but for the medical team who had allowed Maine to get back up and fight days after his really, really fatal looking injuries, a leg with a few bullets in it could be useable in hours.

"I believe it would be prudent to retreat," Wyoming informed her. Alaska didn't reply, but couldn't help but agree. They'd been brought in to provide extra security to the area with their presence. They couldn't do that if they died out here or used up all their ammo. Yeah Alaska had her knife, but there was no way she wanted to get close enough to one of those things to have to use it–

Alaska's head suddenly became intimately acquainted with the wall. Hard. Twice.

Wyoming and Alaska, distracted by Carolina's little show, had allowed Flood to get too close. Wash yelped as he was battered by a large infected Marine, and Wyoming struggled to keep a group of Beach-Balls away from his face.

Alaska noted all this with detached interest as her head exploded in pain before going rather unsettlingly numb.

_Move!_

Beta's voice rang through her mind, piercing the numbness and prompting her to action. Carolina and Tex were yelling, but she didn't care what they had to say –all she knew was that there was a clear path to the infirmary's barricade and that she could climb up and over to the door. A grunt of exertion reminded her of the existence of the two men beside her.

_Move, move, move, __move, move, move__, move, move, move_

The AI's voice won out, however, and she ran forward, unable to do anything but obey in her disorientated state. She dodged past the bodies scattered along the hall's floor and made it to the barricade, where some low-rank trooper was already up and offering a hand. She grasped it and practically fell through the gap, landing on her face while a host of medical personnel and a few troops stared at her in surprise before one doctor stepped forward.

And then she blacked out.

Dawson wondered, not for the first time, how it had come to this. How the hell did he end up in the military again? How the hell did he end up working for a secret project again? How the hell did he end up aboard a ship with frightening monsters that came straight from a horror movie _that wanted to kill him _again?

He stumbled through the dark halls, hopelessly lost. He was pretty new on the _Mother of Invention_ and hadn't quite memorised the way around yet. The dark and… oh God, what was that?

A slimy, organic-looking substance coated the walls, floor and ceiling in some areas. There was more ahead, and it would be impossible not to step on. It looked… like it was made from the same stuff the creatures were.

So yes. The dark and…_ that_ were making navigation very difficult.

Dawson clutched the broken-off pipe closer to his chest like it could ward off demons and choked back a whimper when he realised the small noise might draw attention. Cautiously he tapped his foot against the slimy, sickly green ground as if it would jump up and bite him. It didn't react, just made a nauseating wet squelching noise as he lifted his foot back up. He continued on.

He didn't like walking on this stuff, and it was getting more and more common as he continued down the corridors. But he couldn't turn back. He'd tried every way but this, and there was either those monsters or dead-ends. Every instinct in him told him to run, but to where? Running, throwing care and caution to the wind, could only land him in more trouble. Or that's what he guessed.

Really, what did he know? He was a pilot. He didn't take part in the close combat stuff. He was like… a chauffeur. Sure they'd given him basic training, but that had been a while ago…

Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of how hopeless his situation was. He had no idea where he was, the hallways were covered in _stuff_ and the only thing that had kept him alive was being able to avoid those things when he came across them. Luck.

The features of the ship were indistinguishable from the matter that coated them, and so Dawson didn't notice the door until it slid open beside him. He gulped and shivered, pipe at the ready.

He poked his head through the opening, looked right nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief before realising there was another direction. Looked left…

…just in time to see a mutated club of an arm hurtling towards him.

He jumped away, avoiding the attack but stumbling straight into something solid and moving. He scrambled to get away, but was lifted off his feet.

Dawson struggled. He begged and pleaded and screamed and cried. But the creatures took no notice as they carried him to a destination known only to them.

There were those things everywhere now. But the little ones ignored him, and the larger ones cleared a path for the two escorting him.

One last door opened, and in the centre of what might once have been the cafeteria was a giant _mass_ of whatever it was. Giant, pulsing, _hungry_.

Dawson froze and stared. The things carrying him steadily advanced towards that thing in the centre. As he got closer he saw what it was made of.

Bodies. Slowly being…digested or absorbed or _assimilated_ into the green mass were at least half a dozen bodies. And that was only on the side he could see.

He realised with a jolt what his fate was. To join those bodies.

Two steps away the thing, the creature carrying him dropped him and shoved him forward.

He couldn't stop himself. He fell face-first onto the mass with a disgusting wet _smack_ing sound.

When the thing didn't respond immediately, he rolled onto his back and tried to get up. Something stopped him.

Around his waist, little searching, probing appendages spread across his body and held him down. He tried to push himself up, but they wrapped around his arms. He watched, eyes wide, while the tips of the things pushed through his skin and crawled under his flesh.

Dawson screamed. And a few went in his mouth and crawled down his throat gagging him and choking him. All the while, he was slowly being pulled down into his grave.

It was only when one or two appendages neared his eyes that he lost his reason.

He flailed as much as his restraints would allow him (by this point, almost not at all) as a tiny little point plunged into his eye, travelled through the jelly and popped out the other side, slowly probing around the inside of his head.

A horrific buzzing noise filled his mind and steadily grew louder and louder until he couldn't hear his own thoughts.

And that is how Dawson the Pilot became a part of a Proto-Gravemind.

**A/N: Hello, everyone.**

**Been a while, huh? I'm on summer holidays now too. I would just like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this fanfiction. A special thank you to those who are patient enough to put up with my rather sporadic updating.**

**Love you all.**


	9. Chapter 9

_Agent North Dakota_

_AI: Theta (innocence)_

"…just take them back to where you are now. The location doesn't even have to be defended –the only way in is far too strong for them to break it down," the Director continued. "Find the pilots and protect them. The Flood seem to be targeting them."

North was well aware of what they would have to face to get to where the majority of the remaining pilots had taken refuge –a small rec room, found near their section of the living quarters and two floors up from the team's current location. Looking around at his team, North wasn't sure whether to be confident or concerned.

South had remained awake with him. To kill time she'd loaded various weapons and stacked the ammo for each gun next to them. He knew he could count on her to watch his back.

The rest of the team slept, unaware of their new mission.

North's main concern was Illinois. Ever since the implantation of Zeta, he'd changed. Become far more withdrawn. With other Freelancers suffering greatly with their AI breaking down or lashing out, North didn't know what to expect of the older agent.

In any case, they needed to leave. The pilots couldn't hold out forever.

North gently shook Lou awake while South took care of Nevada, hitting the younger woman in the stomach –not hard, but not gently either. The job of waking up Illinois was left to Nevada by some unspoken agreement, and after putting her helmet back on she poked the man's cheek until he woke up. He looked at her silently for a moment, nodding in thanks when she handed him his helmet.

"What're we doing, kids?" Lou asked gruffly. He didn't seem too annoyed that his nap had been interrupted.

"Fetching some pilots from the rec room to here," South announced, slinging an assault rifle onto her back and stocking up on ammo as she went.

"Apparently they're being targeted," North finished.

"Those things can _target_ people? Specifically?" Nevada piped, looking between the other four agents nervously. "I thought they were like… zombies."

"Who knows?" North shrugged, a little unsure himself but covering it up easily. "Even if they can't, it's best to keep the pilots safe –they're our best shot out of here if we're not being evacuated by the UNSC."

Nevada nodded uncertainly. Lou patted her on the shoulder a few times before handing her a battle rifle along with as much ammunition as she was able to carry.

North wondered if it was Nevada he should be worried about in combat. She was clearly scared, and he wasn't sure she'd be able to push through it. If she freaked out when a swarm of them attacked…

And then North remembered the disturbing calmness that washed over her during the fight and retreat that led them here just an hour ago.

He was still worried, but for a very different reason.

"Oh God," South groaned, warily eyeing the walls and floor, now coated in a disgusting greenish-yellow matter. Lou rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, putting his whole head in the movement to make it extra clear, and jumped onto it with a _squelch._

"Don't worry," he reassured her in a manner that may not have been completely sincere. "I don't think it'll stain your armour."

"Right, because that's–"

"Um…"

Both South and Lou looked at Nevada, who was shifting uncomfortably with the two gazes focused on her.

"Could you guys be quiet?" she whispered, so quietly they could barely hear her. "What if they hear us?"

"We have guns," South replied, lifting hers up to show Nevada that they did indeed have guns.

"So do some of those things," Illinois muttered, taking it upon himself to lead the team down the hall, towards the small rec room on the other end of the ship (width-wise) and two floors up.

North watched the exchange with something approaching exasperation. Lou just seemed amused.

_Theta?_ North thought, waiting for his AI to answer.

_Yeah?_

_You got my back, right?_

_Duh,_ his AI responded simply, in the tone of a smirking child. North grinned and followed close behind Illinois, DMR at the ready –he had decided the sniper rifle would've been more trouble than it's worth in such close quarters.

The corridors' lights were all out, either suffering from some sort of power outage or covered completely in the disgusting substance that coated so much of the space. The stuff grew everywhere, taking up just enough space to make the hallway uncomfortably claustrophobic and seemed to absorb sound. Except for the sucking sound their boots made every time they took a step, there was complete silence.

So far there was no sign of any Flood, but North didn't like it. While he wasn't quite as eager to add to his kill count as his sister, he would rather be fighting the enemy, knowing where they are, than wandering around a silent ship and having no clue if there was a stationary Flood right around the corner.

His motion trackers detected no movement, but that didn't mean the halls and rooms they passed were empty.

The elevator had to be less than 100m away, hidden by a few twists and turns in the ship's layout. They were going the quickest route possible to the rec room, but slowly, the screams that rang through their radios during that first battle still fresh in their minds and demanding caution.

Inside North's mind, Theta was tense. North knew he was a pretty tough kid, though. He wouldn't break.

_I can hear them,_ Theta murmured. His voice was sudden and caused North to flinch, a reaction the other four largely ignored –the one who _didn't_ have an AI was still familiar with some of the effects, including responding to what seems to be nothing.

_Who?_ North asked.

_The infected AI,_ Theta whispered, scared to talk about it. _Eta and some others. They want me to join them. _

North tried to send a calming influence to Theta, one half of his mind focused solely on the conversation and the other making sure they were on the right path.

Then he realised how Theta's predicament could be useful.

_Theta,_ North said seriously. _I know this might be hard, but can you tell which AI are calling you?_

Working under the assumption that the AI couldn't be corrupted without the Freelancer being infected, it could be a good way to keep tabs on who (out of the Freelancers with AI) was alive and who was… not. And if there were any powerful enemies to contend with.

_I know Eta is there, but the others are too scrambled to make out,_ Theta replied. _It will take me a while to clear them up. Want me to try?_

_Go for it,_ North said. _Just keep your head in the game._

North felt the whirring in his mind that meant that Theta was on it.

"I vote South," Lou muttered, staring at the large doors of the elevator. Someone had to call it, placing them very close to the doors and whatever lay behind them if the elevator was right there. There was no sign of its location on the floors.

"I vote Nevada," South grumbled, giving the younger woman a quick, bored look.

"I vote we draw straws…"

North sighed. Lou and South just didn't get along, and South knew she'd either met her match or better in Lou when it came to insults. So she turned to Nevada, who simply couldn't defend herself in a battle of words. This wasn't a great mix.

In the end, Illinois shoved past South and called the elevator himself, quickly backing up to the position he, South and Lou held –around the corner to the right of the short corridor leading to the elevator. North and Nevada had set up on the left.

The elevator didn't open immediately. It was probably on a higher floor, making its way down to them, bringing with it God only knew what. North didn't particularly like taking the elevator in this situation –anything could be behind those doors when it opened, and he'd always been taught to never use them in an emergency. But this was the route the Director had laid out for him, plus the quickest to the trapped pilots, so he didn't have much of a choice.

As the elevator doors began to open, a shrill screech carried through the halls. South, Lou and Illinois whirled to see the onslaught of Flood hurtling towards them. Mostly the smaller infection forms, but a few turned Marines and one or two engineers.

North stepped forward to help, Nevada close on his heels, but the elevator door opened and more of the Beach-Balls spilled out, a few larger, top-heavy, bulging creatures behind them.

Cursing, North focused his attention on them, trusting the other three to handle what was coming from their side.

He saw Nevada out of the corner of his eye, staying a bit further back and keeping half an eye on the other three's movements. He wanted to yell at her for ignoring her duty, but–

"All clear, girl!" Lou called. Nevada sharply gestured for North to get away from the intersection where he was fighting, before pulling a grenade from her belt and popping the pin, tossing it around the corner towards the elevator as Lou did the same.

Two bangs followed and a splatter of brownish-green gunk sprayed from the short passage. That hadn't killed all of them, however. Just caused those carrier types to explode and spawn more.

North scowled, knowing his DMR wouldn't be nearly as useful against just those small, fast forms. His motion tracker gave him something else to shoot at, though.

Coming up behind Nevada and North were a group of three infected Marines.

Wait… that armour.

Two infected Marines. One infected Freelancer Agent Montana.

North heard Lou curse in the background, but was more concerned with Nevada, who was focusing on finishing off the infection forms in front of her, still pouring from the elevator but in smaller amounts.

"Watch it!" North ordered, shooting the infected Marine preparing to lunge at her twice in the shoulder. He didn't kill it, but the creature fell back and gave Nevada enough time to scramble out of range.

With enemies pouring from three directions, North thought fast.

"Clear the elevator!" he ordered. He held back the three infected soldiers as best as he could as Nevada turned the corner, Illinois reloading his shotgun on the other side to assist her on their task. South and Lou held back the Flood coming in from the right, but when the stream turned to a trickle, South ran over to North's side and prepared to help him.

"Elevator clear!" Nevada announced from behind them.

Illinois and Nevada quickly took their places with the other three, Nevada electing to help Lou mop up the creatures coming in from the right and Illinois helping with the three on the left.

With Illinois' shotgun, one infected trooper went down quickly. The other snarled and lunged forward, aiming for Illinois.

North and Illinois both shot at it –South was aiming at the Flood Montana– but one went wide and the other only hit the thing's belly, not doing as much damage as it could've. Illinois crashed to the ground with the thing on top of him, shotgun knocked out of his hands as his attention was forcefully turned to defending himself from the beating the infected trooper was giving him.

North tried kicking it off, the creature barely seeming to feel it, too devoted to pounding Illinois into a stain on the organic substance covering the floor. Lou yelled something –nothing worded, but he somehow understood– and North gripped the creature by one of the weird antennae protruding from its back, lifted its upper body well away from Illinois', and ensured he was out of the way as Lou emptied a Magnum's clip into it.

The thing slumped, dead weight in North's arms, and Illinois pushed it to the side.

South, meanwhile, had been fighting with the Flood Montana alone. She was having trouble.

In life, Montana had been rather terrible at normal hand-to-hand combat (as terrible as a Freelancer could be, anyway) although she was pretty good at staff fighting. Her death and infection had turned her _arm_ into a staff –one that still had armour on it in some parts.

Montana kept trying to sweep South's legs from under her, defending herself from gunfire by making a shield out of her wrist and shoulder armour. It was a feat that should've broken an arm.

North felt anger bubble up inside of him. _No one_ hurt his sister. Not while he was around.

He aimed as carefully as he could while hurrying; shooting where there was only greenish flesh or the remnants of the black under-suit. The Flood Montana shrieked and stumbled back, giving South some room to manoeuvre. She backed up to North's side, raising her rifle and taking steady aim.

Montana recovered and made its way over to the group again, closing the small gap.

Illinois stepped forward and tried to have a go with his shotgun. Montana leaped out of the way just as he pulled the trigger. He re-aimed and tried again.

_Click_.

The fight in the elevator had taken its toll on his ammunition. Illinois grunted and fell back behind the others to reload.

North and South opened fire at the same time, taking advantage of the fact that the creature only had one shield and could only block one of the two. Nevada joined in, steadying herself on one knee and aiming for the legs wherever she could find a break in the armour.

Flood Montana ripped a pistol from its holster, flinging the holster somewhere down the hall in the process, and clumsily shot at Nevada and Illinois.

North heard Nevada cry out, and paused in his assault to check up on her. Before he could get a word out, Lou pushed past him with Illinois' borrowed shotgun.

South aimed low to draw away Montana's shield. Lou aimed for the nest of antennae on the thing's shoulder.

_BANG._

The creature that had once been Montana, a cheery blonde Freelancer, collapsed to the ground.

Lou shook his head and tossed the shotgun back to Illinois, who caught it easily.

"Too bad," Lou mumbled. "I liked her."

While North was loath to split up, it did sound like a good idea. Two people would wait and ensure the elevator and surrounding halls remained clear of Flood, while three retrieved the pilots.

Given that the pilots also had combat training, however basic, North reasoned that the rescue should be able to go off with few casualties even if it was probably the more dangerous of the two missions.

The question was who to leave behind.

Nevada was an obvious choice, if only because she and her mines would be useful in defence. But if the rescue team had underestimated the forces of the Flood and got stuck up there, her knowledge could be useful. In any case, he wanted to keep Nevada and South away from each other.

He also wanted to keep Lou and South away from each other. He wanted his sister with him, but as the two highest-rated agents of the group, he decided that it was better if they separated.

"Illinois, you know how to set a few mines, right?" North asked.

Illinois nodded.

"Good. Nevada, hand over… how many do you have?"

"He already has some," Nevada replied, nodding to the black bag designed for carrying ordnance clipped onto the back of Illinois' armour. She kept prodding at the two new ridges in the armour on her right shoulder. "I have six on me, he has… four?" Nevada looked to Illinois for confirmation, which he gave in the form of a curt nod.

"Alright," North muttered, mostly to himself. "Ok," he said louder, "Illinois and South, you stay here, make sure our exit is nice and clear when we have the pilots with us. They might have wounded," North added the last part realising it might be true. None of the assembled Freelancers had more than the most basic medical training, and transportation could be an issue. "Lou and Nevada, you're with me."

Illinois nodded and began setting up the mines, apparently deciding on two on each of the halls leading away from the elevator. South stared at North for a few moments.

North knew what his sister was thinking and sighed. _I'm not doing this for the glory. C'mon, South, you know me better,_ he willed her to realise. She shrugged off his gaze and fixed her attention on looking down the two hallways.

Lou cleared his throat, already in the elevator with Nevada behind him.

North joined them, pressed the button for two floors up, and took one last glance at South, his twin, before the doors closed tight between them.

**A/N: Another chapter done!**

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and thanks for sticking with me this far! I estimate this story's going to be 20+ chapters, so it might take a while…**

**Anyway, criticism is very much appreciated (especially on the quality of OCs, description and emotion in the writing) although any review is great. Even flames give me an idea that I'm doing **_**something**_** wrong.**

**Hope you're all having a great holiday season!**


	10. Chapter 10

_Agent North Dakota_

_AI: Theta (Innocence)_

"Oh," Nevada murmured.

"Well," Lou agreed.

The _Mother of Invention_ simply didn't have enough personnel to allow for the Flood to have a substantial force everywhere, even if they took over most of the people on it. But because of the personnel's habit of banding together, they didn't have to. Whether the Flood were really getting intelligent or not, they were still capable of splitting into large groups and attacking areas with lots of people around.

This allowed relatively easy passage for the team from the elevator to the area where the pilots were holed up. Now that they were so close, however…

Aside from the innumerable small Beach-Ball forms of the Flood that had proved they could appear as quickly as they were destroyed, North counted about ten Infected forms that he could _see_ in front of the barricaded entrance to the pilot's rec room just down the hall.

From their position about twenty metres away from the rec room, peering around the corner of a junction, Lou was scanning the area for the best way to go about attacking them. Here the strange organic substance that coated walls, floors and ceiling wasn't as widespread with the cold metal of the ship shining through in most places. If nothing else that made their surroundings a little more recognisable.

Nevada at this point sat back and let the two more experienced agents do the planning. She kept watch behind them and avoided making the corner more crowded and uncomfortable than it already was. North, who had Lou standing above and leaning over him to get a good view into the hallway before them, appreciated her consideration overruling her curiosity.

"Ok," Lou began, "I say we set a trap. How many mines did you say you had, kid?"

"Six," Nevada replied, scooting a little closer to the other two to keep the conversation as quiet as possible.

"Even one of those could cause massive damage," North reminded them, wary of Lou's plan. "We should use them sparingly, in case we run into trouble later."

Lou, very clearly exasperated, replied, "I know what those things do, North. I'm the planner, remember? It's my job to know what does what."

North nodded for him to continue, at least a little placated.

"Now those things are targeting the pilots, right?" Lou seemed to actually be waiting for a response, so Nevada and North nodded. "That means we might not be able to draw them very far away. Thing is, we don't need to. There's another junction, not ten metres away from the things straight ahead. Kid, you can set those things before you place 'em, right?"

"Yeah, I just need to activate them once they're placed," Nevada said, glancing around every few seconds as if she expected a horde of Flood to appear from nowhere and surround them. Given previous experiences, this wasn't exactly an irrational fear.

"And we've seen you activate them remotely with that datapad of yours," Lou continued, gesturing to the small, sturdy pad Nevada had attached to the armour on her hip. "So you rig one or two of them to blow, North goes around the long way and attaches them to the wall near the other corner, and runs right back here, catching their attention. You set them off the second enough of them are near to it."

"What about you?" North asked.

"I'll stay here with the kid and help shoot those little ones that'll be closing in on you the second you show yourself, before any of the big guys can even begin to stumble towards us," Lou replied simply. It was hard not to imagine him with a cigar in his mouth as he finished his plan, speaking in a strong Southern accent.

"Right," North nodded. "So, Nev–"

"Working on it," she replied, pulling a mine from the black bag/pouch thing and beginning to fiddle with it.

North looked around the corner at the Flood again. The barricade was still holding up, but seemed to be buckling. North had no idea how many people were in there.

"Anyone have any idea of how long they'll be able to hold out?" North asked as Nevada worked.

Lou shrugged, although the question made him tense. "They won't have to for more than five minutes."

"Then we should hurry," Nevada murmured, handing North the mine carefully and watching as he attached it to the back of his armour. "That barricade won't hold up for much longer. Now, press these three buttons in _this_ order to activate it."

"Got it. Now, what makes you so sure?" North whispered. He sure didn't disagree. The barricade was not designed to hold for long… more for immediate defence. But hearing Nevada, the one who was supposed to be all optimistic, dismiss it so easily?

Nevada, in turn, shooed him on. "It's my job to know how hard things are going to be to blow up. I wouldn't waste more than a grenade on that thing," she replied. "One more thing. The blast'll probably take down the barricade too. You'll have to draw as many as possible away to limit the risks to the pilots. Now go!" The last was whispered as loud as could be without drawing attention to themselves.

North made his way back the hall they had come through, going around the Flood-riddled hall ahead of them. When he got to the corner, he cautiously looked down the darkened corridor.

Empty.

He turned the corner, now out of sight from the other two. It was only about twenty metres he had to walk. If he could keep quiet and remain unseen for twenty metres, he was in the clear.

The emergency lighting cast shadows everywhere, but North took comfort in the knowledge that anything that saw him would probably attack right away rather than hide in the dark. He was unlikely to be stalked by these things.

The absence of the disgusting substance that had coated the walls, floor and ceiling on the lower level helped him move quietly.

This proved useful when, right down the corridor past the intersection, the small Flood creatures crawled towards the barricade to assist in its destruction. They were focused enough to ignore North.

_I hope it stays that way…_ whimpered Theta.

Theta. If North was infected, did that mean Theta would become as corrupted as Eta?

He couldn't let that happen. Not when North could _feel_ Theta's faith and trust that he would make things better somehow.

He reached the corner and, with one more wary glance at the scurrying infections, moved out of their sight.

There. Ten metres away from the hallway right in front of the rest of his team, where he would plant the mine and run. He removed the mine from the back of his armour and recalled the way to prime it, allowing Nevada to activate it remotely.

He peeked around the corner, towards the barricade and its attackers. He attached the mine to the wall there.

The small _snick_ it made as it stuck drew some attention.

One of the larger ones and some of the small ones came rushing his way immediately. North reached for his pistol, but the Beach-Balls popped as they launched themselves at him.

"Hurry it up!" Lou yelled, firing with his AR to keep the creatures at bay.

North quickly set up the mine and ran right into the corridor, keeping as out of Lou's way as he could. He faced the Flood and backed away as quickly as he could, desperately trying to take out the small infection forms that rushed him with only his pistol. Lou had managed to take out most of them, but North was in his way for some.

Deciding it was better to just get the hell out of range (with a fearful agreement from Theta), North turned on his heel and ran the rest of the way to his teammates, almost jumping over the crouched down Nevada and joining Lou in holding off the Flood.

The Flood seemed more than happy to comply with their plan, most now heading towards the Freelancers. They either didn't see the mine or didn't understand its significance.

"Anytime now, kid," Lou grunted as another wave of Beach-Balls burst before him.

"I only want to get the most devastating effect," she mumbled, staring at the oncoming Flood and presumably considering her options.s

The first few big guys had reached the mine, and North glanced down at Nevada to see what _exactly _she was doing.

The small Freelancer seemed to be nodding to herself, finger hovering over the command that would send the signal to the mine.

More infected personnel reached the mine, and she nodded one final time, decisively.

"Take cover!" she yelled, loud enough for those behind the barricade to hear.

Lou, North and Nevada jumped back behind the corner they had come from.

Nevada tapped her data-pad once.

An explosion sounded through the walls, followed by a wet _splatt_ing sound and several cries of fear and confusion from the pilots as their barricade crumbled.

A small amount of infection forms turned the corner and launched themselves at the Freelancers. Lou shot and destroyed three in the air, while North managed to take one out by punching it in mid-air. Nevada ducked under the attack of her aggressor, shooting it as it landed on the ground behind her.

Shouts and gunfire sounded from down the hall as the pilots fought with their attackers. North and Lou jumped ahead to help with the brawl, Nevada following once she had the datapad back in its place on her hip.

Between the bustle and girth of the Flood, flashes of pilot-white could be seen. A dark blue also shone through, and North yelled 'Freelancer!' once he caught sight of it.

The presence of another Freelancer comforted North, especially on the pilots' end of the hall. It would take a while for his team to fight their way through to them, and he wanted to get through this with the least amount of casualties as possible. As he shot a path through the Flood, Nevada picking off any he'd missed and Lou taking out any that tried to get behind them, North ran through the list of Freelancers with dark blue armour.

_The exact shade looks like Colorado's,_ Theta informed him happily. Theta had decided he liked Col the day Col distracted Maine (and also Sigma) from him when they were being scary.

North grunted in acknowledgement, Nevada glancing at him in confusion for a moment before shrugging it off. She had her own AI, and was likely familiar with the feeling. Instead, she focused on taking down an Infected… person who was getting a little too close for comfort.

The team was almost to the halfway point of the hall, where another intersection spread out from it. North frowned, knowing that if the Flood were going to try anything, forcing the team to fight in three (four, if they managed to get a decent force behind them) directions would be it.

Lou seemed to realise this as well. "Think we can clear a path any quicker?"

"Incendiary grenades could be effective against this group," Nevada mused. "Unfortunately, even if we had any, there's no guarantee the pilots could avoid the blaze."

"Any _possible_ ways we can clear a path any quicker," North clarified. Nevada could be very smart when it came to explosives. But also quite impractical… maybe that was just a habit that _all_ demolitions and explosives experts had. Certainly all the ones he'd seen.

Before anyone could speak, a fire spread from the barricade's end and travelled throughout the shrieking, fearful Flood forms.

"Looks like _someone_ had incendiary grenades," Nevada noted. Smugness was not her way, but it was clear she was happy about her idea being used.

"And because we aren't backed into a corner, we have a better chance of avoiding their effects," Lou agreed. As he nodded along with the plan of the pilots (and Col), he slowly drew back, away from the crazed and fiery creatures, some of which were still trying to get a few hits in.

The fight wound down after that –the small Infection forms lasted only seconds in the heat, and their larger Infected kin were distracted and taking constant damage from being on fire. As the last fell, the two groups looked at each other.

"North," Col said, nodding at him in greeting.

"Col," North returned.

Within seconds, the tense atmosphere dissipated and all that was left was relief –relief at being rescued, and relief at finding other survivors in a now hostile area.

As the two groups approached each other, greeted and mingled a little, North snapped back to the situation.

"Ada, Lou," he said, "keep an eye out for Flood. There's probably more on the way if they know we're here."

"We'll help," one pilot said, speaking for all of them. North was happy to recognise 479-er as she directed her pilots to spread out along the intersections and keep a look out. Ada and Lou separated and each took one of the less fight-experienced pilots under their wing.

Col looked at North. "So, you got a plan?"

"We head back down to the armoury we were staying at," North explained. "We take the elevator –South and Illinois are keeping the hall clear around there. Should be enough room for all of your friends."

"There shouldn't be," Col said bluntly, but nodded. North winced at the reminder of how many they had lost. In any case, now was the time to be focusing on the people they still had, so he gestured for the lookouts to fall in and he and Col led them back to the elevator. Nevada and Lou brought up the rear while the pilots with the best weapons and most experience using them carefully enclosed their weaker and, in many cases, younger colleagues.

Col called the elevator as the rest of the group took cover where they could, prepared for a burst of Flood to attack them. The rescue team had imparted their last run-in with the elevator as they went.

No such thing happened, though, and North gestured for the pilots to enter first. As 479-er counted heads and gave North the thumbs-up, Lou followed them in.

Then things went wrong.

The Flood apparently hadn't been able to catch up to them until they'd almost completed their escape, but they were here now. Sweeping in a wave down the corridor, they barrelled forward, those that had weapons firing shots as they went. Nevada hit the switch on the nearest door to her and took cover in the doorway, firing back as well as she could with her pistol. Col shoved North back into the elevator.

"Go," he snapped, jumping back to avoid the shots. North was forced to duck behind the elevator doors, surrounded by pilots doing the same. Nevada and Col were fighting back, but both risked being hit if they tried to make it to the elevator. Lou, across from him, shook his head. He didn't want leave the two other Freelancers behind.

From his position, North could just see Nevada, who had swapped to her battle rifle and was calmly firing back at opponents that North couldn't see from his position. She turned to him briefly, and nodded. Kappa flickered into existence by her side and made a shooing gesture.

_He says that the room she's in is secure when the door's closed. When you're gone, she, Kappa and Col can hide in there,_ Theta informed him. He was a little scared. Nevertheless, he had confidence that his brother, Nevada and Col could take care of themselves.

North pressed the button that would take them down to the armoury.

As the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of Col jumping towards Nevada, reaching the cover of the door unharmed (as far as North could see).

Lou glared at him through his helmet. "What the hell were you thinking, abandoning them there?" he demanded. The pilots didn't move, not wanting to draw the enraged Freelancer's attention.

"They'll be safe," North said calmly, hoping it was true. "They made the decision to stay behind and keep them off our backs."

Heta appeared next to Lou, his hologram taking shape between him and North. "_Kap says they'll try to meet up with us later. If not, they'll just hang out in the lab they ended up in."_

Lou still scowled, and very clearly disapproved of the situation. He did, however, realise he seemed to be spooking some of the pilots and made an effort to calm himself down.

"Fine," he muttered, and that was the end of that.

The elevator doors opened around the same time North realised he'd have to explain Nevada's absence to Illinois.


End file.
